#i hit something or i leave the bandaids on too long or too little or something

[hopefullystillliving]

I fucking hate being long-term temporarily disabled in such a way that you *know* what the treatment is, you are hypothetically able to access the treatment, but you just aren't well enough to have the fucking treatment done.

[yueebby]

keep dreaming! – gojo satoru

synopsis. down bad? … it’s gojo satoru!

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo, he basically has a wet dream of you, you wear tinted lip balm, your first kiss w him (??), suguru plays devil’s advocate

notes. remember spring days!au but can be read alone. anyways, enjoy!! I am writing this while sick (yikes). also of course this wouldn’t be canon compliant if i had not included satoru and suguru’s dynamic! I tried my best to apply their interactions during the basketball match + while theyre leaving jujutsu tech as much as i can.

“satoru…” you murmur, looking up at him shyly. the two of you find yourselves alone in the classroom. a greedy smile plays on his lips, and you struggle to formulate words as your eyes travel from his cerulean ones to his lips. satoru can barely contain his excitement, the anticipation radiates from him like an electric charge.

“say it, [name]. tell me what you want.” he whispers back at you seductively, his eyes are spellbound onto yours. you whine before grabbing the collar of his uniform and pulling him onto you. your lips are soft, so soft. you were made for him, he’s sure, as your lips mold together. as a matter of fact, your lips are so soft that they feel eerily like his pillow–

"get up! we’re late to our mission!" suguru hits the top of satoru’s head with the spare pillow on his bed. the white haired boy immediately activates his innate technique to block his best friend’s attacks.

it was going to be a long day.

“it’s unlike you to wake up so late.” suguru’s hands pause over the shoji door of the classroom. his concern for gojo was more important than the imminent lecture they were going to receive from yaga for their tardiness. “plus you totally sucked today.”

their mission had taken an unexpected turn for the worse when the pair had found themselves stuck in an incomplete domain. the narrow escape was only possible as a result of suguru’s quick thinking with rainbow dragon.

the bandaid on satoru’s cheek is a silent testament to the mission gone wrong.

“i’ve just been tired.” satoru mumbles quietly, heat rising to his cheeks as the memory of the dream flashes in his mind. he was too deep in thought to counter his friend’s insult.

something was definitely wrong. suguru raises his eyebrows, “and it has nothing to do with the fact that i caught you making out with your pillow?”

“i– what?” the heat has spread from his cheeks to all over his face. he hopes his sunglasses cover the blush that was blossoming on his face. suguru lets out a breath of relief. satoru’s blush meant that the matter at hand was only trivial…

“don’t tell me you were dreaming of [name],” his best friend smiles knowingly. satoru groans. suguru definitely knew, he was just playing with him at this point.

their conversation is cut short when the doors slide open by themselves to reveal a certain brown haired girl with a distasteful look on her face.

“satoru is having wet dreams of [name]?” shoko remarks quietly, making sure her comment is only heard by the two males. “i would act surprised, but it’s not like you’re above it.”

“just who do you think i am?” satoru looks down at his friend.  

“a real pervert.” shoko simply replied before quickly making her way back to the desk next to yours. 

satoru’s eyes follow her and make their way onto you. like a fly making its way into a honey trap, he can’t seem to look anywhere else. too busy burning the image of you absorbed in your textbook, he absorbs every little detail from the way your soft lips slightly part to mouth the words of the book to the way your leg bounces underneath the table. were you using a new lip balm? there was a subtle shade difference from your usual choice. gojo makes a mental note to ask you for the exact brand for… personal reasons.

in his trance, satoru fails to notice yaga’s scolding. he had also failed to notice how suguru had already made his way into a desk.

“satoru since you seem so eager to continue standing, i assume you volunteer to solve this equation.” yaga angrily taps the blackboard with a worn out price of chalk. 

satoru stiffens up, not because of yaga’s wrath, but because your attention has shifted from the textbook to him. you blink up at him, the image dangerously similar to his dream. satoru gulps, eyes quickly flitting to the equation messily written on the board. 

at least math equations don’t make him feel like his heart is beating out of his chest.

it didn’t take a genius to notice how quiet satoru has been today. as if he were in his own world, you notice.

“i fear that i may have been giving satoru too much attention lately,” you mutter to your two other friends, mind running laps trying to recall all of the intimate moments you have spent with the white haired fiend— all of which could be characterized as highly inappropriate. 

“you always do,” suguru lazily rests his chin on the palm of his hand on the desk across from you. after yaga’s lecture, the seats had been rearranged appropriately so that the four of you could enjoy lunch together. “lay some of your love on us too.” he gestures his chopsticks to himself and shoko who were sitting side by side.

one could argue that the subtle smirk playing on suguru’s lips were a lot more dangerous than satoru’s. you’re afraid that suguru has started a game that will only end with your downfall.

the silver tongued boy seemed to catch satoru’s attention with his comment.

“ha– mad that you don’t pull? get your own girl,” satoru speaks up for the first time, glaring at his best friend through half lidded eyes from above his dark glasses. the half eaten melonpan in his hand was long forgotten.

“last i checked, [name] wasn’t your girl,” suguru places his chopsticks back down on his bento box. 

you could’ve sworn you saw an irk mark appear on the side of gojo’s face. 

shoko, who had been watching the scene unfold, sips on her juicebox silently. your eyes anxiously flit between the two boys.

“if you’re still mad about that mission, step outside. it’s not like i’m the one savin’ our asses every time.” satoru grits his teeth. 

the loud sound of suguru’s chair screeching on the wooden floor reverberates in the mostly empty room, “you and your uncouth mouth,” he accuses satoru.

shoko flees the scene. smart girl. 

you were about to follow her, but suguru holds out a hand for you to stop,

“i’m just about done anyway. please, don’t cut your meal early on my account,” he looks down at you and your full bento box. the black haired boy leaves no room for discussion when he turns his back to leave the classroom. 

when the shoji doors are slammed shut by suguru, your head whips to satoru who resumes eating his strawberry melonpan. 

“what was that? you’ve been acting strange, satoru– what happened on that mission?”

“don’ worry ‘bout it,” you barely make out the words coming out of his mouth that is full as he munches on the pink bread. 

you scoff, “you can’t just expect me to ignore the argument you just had with suguru. and that ugly bandaid on your face?” you point at the skin-colored bandage haphazardly placed on his face. upon further inspection, you also notice the growing eyebags on his face. it was truly peculiar to see any blemish on satoru’s perfect face.

he pouts, “are you calling me ugly?” satoru doesn't take pleasure in upsetting you, but the gradual way you leaned closer to him sparked an unexpected thrill within him.

“no, i’m worried about you. you’re being weird, satoru.” he was far from ugly.

as your back faces the window, the outside light casts an otherworldly glow around you.

“well, aren’t you an angel?” he tilts his head as he leans back in his seat, completely enamored.

“you never stop, do you? you’ve been completely out of it all day!” your scrutinizing gaze zeroes in on gojo who was mindlessly nodding with a dazed out smile on his face. “and judging by the way you’re all bandaged up, suguru was probably right! i mean you totally got roughed up. the great gojo satoru, wounded.” 

satoru blushes at your angry face. he’d say something indecent, but he fears that it would only scare you away. if only you knew that the reason he was all messed up was because of you.

“it's partially your fault, y'know.” cerulean eyes blink at you sheepishly before being replaced by a newfound mischievous look.

he doesn’t miss the way your anger shifts into confusion.

"excuse me?"

satoru continues, “if it weren't for you appearing in my dream i wouldn't have been distracted by that incomplete domain.” he points to the bandage cut just below his right eye.

“dreaming of me now, gojo?" you raise an eyebrow. the uncomfortable heat that was starting to rise onto your face at the new revelation that gojo dreams about you is ignored.

satoru looks away, "can you really blame a guy?"

you huff, ignoring his comment, “i think yaga has a first aid kit somewhere in the closet.” you make your way to check out the forgotten door in the back of the classroom. 

the cool sterility of medical supplies contrasts with the charged atmosphere left behind in the classroom.

when you do come back with the kit, your heart races, praying he won't notice the hitch in your breath as your fingers delicately tend to the nearly healed scratch beneath his cheek. satoru's ability to evoke strange emotions within you is undeniable.

silence envelops the classroom, broken only by satoru's deep breaths. you're so close that you can almost feel the warm gusts of air from his breath on your face.

"your body healed remarkably fast. i'm not surprised," you softly observe, your focus on the task at hand. satoru smiles, his eyes fixed on your concentrated features.

"yeah? well, i have an excellent nurse," he remarks, tapping the freshly placed bandaid on his cheek. "though it seems she missed one of my injuries."

you furrow your eyebrows. satoru points to his expectant lips, a playful pout on his face.

"no," you plainly state.

"aw, c'mon. kiss it better? i almost died today," he pleads, his eyes silently begging. you shake your head, unaware that it was your fault he nearly lost his head during the mission.

"you really want a kiss?" you repeat, catching on to his persistent request.

he nods fervently, his excitement palpable. was that even a question

you think he was pretty insane– requesting kisses from a fellow peer.

“satoru..” you murmur, leaning closer to him. his eyes were twinkling with excitement. the two of you were all alone, left with nothing but each other. this scene was all too familiar. 

the sides of his lips quirk up into a smirk while he watches your eyes travel all around his face. satoru has been fantasizing about this moment since the moment he laid eyes on you.

“[name],” he says, his voice softer than ever, a privilege reserved for those closest to him—especially you.

just a few more inches and your lips will meet… just a few…

slap!

satoru blinks in shock while you giggle at his confusion. he attempts to ask what just happened, but his mouth is sealed. his hand rises to find a bandaid now on his lips.

“you’re cuter when you shut up.”

 you seal your words with a soft kiss placed on his bandaged mouth.

...

gojo satoru explodes, his voice muffled by an adhesive barrier.

“m.rrry.. m.. mph..mph!”

extra: 

all conflicts were resolved by evening when you had strategically set up a mario kart tournament.

right after you (indirectly) kissed gojo, you fled the scene, leaving a flustered satoru all hot and bothered. you ended up screaming into your pillow.. the same pillow that satoru was laying on not too long ago.

[mingigoo]

look after you || k.hj (m.)

🩺 pairing ⇢ nurse! (fem) reader x struggling musician! Hongjoong

🩺 synopsis ⇢ after a long night at work with little to no sleep, you nearly doze off on your way home, hitting a tattooed, spikey-haired guy in the middle of the road. Panicking, you run out to help him and go with him to the hospital, only to lie and say he was your husband so you could go back with him. Well, when he woke up, he didn't exactly take it the way you thought he would...

🩺 genre/au ⇢ enemies to lovers (kind of), some angst, smut, fluff, hospital au

🩺 warnings/tags ⇢ 18+ MINORS DNI, injury, car accident, hospital scenes, unprotected sex, undefined relationship, mention of possible suicide attempt, Hongjoong is a scruffy underground musician, trauma with touch, tattoo!joong, grumpy sunshine, cum shot, biting, teasing

🩺 word count ⇢ 10.3k

🩺 taglist ⇢ @atinywhore @jjhmk @yukine-smx @roe-sinning @meowmeowminnie @yeritheloml @y00nzin0 @yesv01 @halesandy @shegotboreddsoo @kangyeosangelic @gayliljoong @sanshineeeeee @kodzukein @baguette-atiny @seokwoosmole @nyeatinyjunkie @juliettechokilo @pockyddalgi @justaqueerbufoin @hwaightme @likexaxdaydream @ssaboala @gtr-skyline-lover @miriamxsworld @daegale @knucklesdeepmingi @naiify @yeoyeoland @arya9111 @mdibby @8tinytings @angelicyeo @wooyoungjpg @lonewolfjinji @asjkdk @charreddonuts @mangishii @yeoyeoland @pink-hwaberry @wooyoluvrr @maru-matt @pearltinyy @loveuwoo @m3chigo @northerngalxy @silverpixiedust23 @interweab @skz1-4-3 (if I missed you please lmk!! bold = can’t tag)

masterlist

A/N ⇢ this story is purely fictional! I am not nurse, and do not have unlimited knowledge on this topic. However, I am a healthcare worker, so I know a little, but not a lot. I am sorry for any information this is incorrect. This is meant for entertainment purposes only. This is not meant to take place in reality.

They never prepare you enough for the things you might see within the hospital walls. 

Nothing is ever enough within those few years of education, the desperate attempt to create life savers. No one tells you how much it hurts to see a child suffer until death, a mother, a daughter.

You just wanted to be something. Do something. Be like the girl you dreamed of being as a child—a child who put bandaids on her mother, all over, decorating her like a painting. Sometimes, your mother would act like she was hurt, just for you to play make-belief, “stitching” up her “wounds.”

And here you were, in the hospital locker room, tears falling silently down your cheeks as you unclipped your hair, letting it fall just like the tears. You sniffed, hiding your face in the locker, although no one was around to see. It was embarrassing enough to yourself—you couldn't believe you were crying. You just…couldn't stop.

The day was rough—just too much. Too much death, too much sadness. This wasn't what you dreamed of. You never thought about how hard it would be to put a smile on your face to a patient, right after witnessing someone leave the world. To act, really. You should've taken up that career instead. You were pretty damn good at doing it—well, until you landed behind the curtain.

You haven't slept in ages. It's been constant insomnia on top of twelve-hour shifts, sometimes even longer, and once you are able to lay down, the only thing you hear is the sound of a patient crashing, the cries of family members. It had you questioning your profession. Your devotion. Your childhood.

As you made your drive home, for some reason, the lines on the road soothed you. Your eyes began to beg for sleep, rolling back ever so slightly as you continued. The gentle patter of rain graced the windshield, the red hue of the stoplight in front of you nearing. 

You stopped at the light—pausing to look at the city around you. The city was bright, even at the dark hour of midnight. People were walking, carrying on,  bar lights bright, apartments lit up in an array of colors. You took in a breath and closed your eyes.

And you closed them a little too long when a car horn sounded behind you.

You jumped, feeling apologetic for holding up the line, and continued forward. People passed you with impatience, but you didn't care. You kept going, crawling, really, till you felt sleep creep up once again, shutting your eyes. You drifted off, only for a short moment, and suddenly you awoke with haste—but not quick enough. In your headlights stood a man, walking across the street, and you didn't have enough time to move. You slowed as best you could, tires screeching, praying to anything, anyone, that this was your imagination.

As your car came to a screeching halt, you hit the man with a thump, causing him to crumble to the ground. You gasped, now wide awake, a scream caught in your throat.

You swallowed hard, hands shaking as you pulled over as best as you could and put your vehicle in park, looking around for any sign of someone. 

No one, absolutely no one, but you and this man you just hit. Just a few blocks back, the city was bustling, bars were hopping, but now, it was like a wasteland. You stepped out of your car, gasping for air, and sprinted through the rain to get to the man.

He was lying still, his head bleeding, his back on the asphalt. His black clothing hid the damage he received from the hit, hiding his body, his black hair covering his face. The only thing you saw was the black ink of a tattoo on his hand as it grasped the road.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, kneeling down to him. You assessed him as best as you could, fighting an anxiety attack. “I am so sorry, oh my god.”

He groaned in response, his arm visibly broken. You hurriedly dialed the emergency line, panting, nearly in tears. You didn't even think about the consequences of this action—you were only worried about the man, the stranger, in front of you. 

After nearly crying once more on the phone, the paramedics explained that they would arrive quickly. You hung up and looked over the stranger once more. “Are you alive?” you asked like a dumb ass, nearly face-palming. You were a nurse, goddammit. Act like one. 

You leaned over him, as gently as possible, putting a finger under his nose, and you felt a soft breath hit it. You checked for an airway obstruction, but nothing. He was breathing fine. In pain, but breathing.

The man tried to move, to roll over sharply, but you quickly bellowed, “Wait, please, you could have a spinal injury,” you pleaded, and surprisingly he stopped. “Don't move.” You caught a glimpse of his face. A large cut near his eyebrow painted his skin crimson, but his eyes were beautiful. His lip was cut, too, and you felt immense pain just looking at him. God, what if he was homeless? He looked it. What if he didn't have insurance? Oh god—

You saw how much blood was coming from his head as he looked up at you. His eyes were hazy, like he wasn't really seeing. You hurriedly looked around for anything to stop his bleeding, and when you found nothing, you took your coat off, then your scrub top, and you quickly put your coat back on. You held your shirt to his head as gently as possible, applying pressure, praying that the paramedics would come soon—

Your anxious thoughts were interrupted by sirens. You let out a sigh of relief.

When the ambulance pulled up, two men came to you with a stretcher. You were barely alert enough to hear them say anything. You mumbled a few things, your hands shaking as they set down the gurney. You mumbled to have them put on a neck brace, chest tightening at how the man cried in pain. You let out an ugly cry with him, but no tears fell. They gently rested him on the stretcher, his head steady, but his arm—

“Are you crazy!” you hissed, standing up quickly. “His arm….he needs his arm stabilized!”

“I’m sorry, mam,” the one man condescendingly said, giving you a dull look. “We know how to do our job. We don't need your input.”

You huffed. Mam? Mam? That was insulting. “I’m a nurse, I also know what I’m talking about.”

They ignored you like everyone seemed to ignore you. They began to move away, but a small object caught their eye that lay right where the man was. You picked it up, finding it to be an empty wallet—you’d give it back later.

They rolled him towards the ambulance, and you followed, forgetting about your car, and everything in it, leaving the scene behind. The paramedics didn't seem to care that you went with them, so you sat in the vehicle, watching them treat the guy you hit. You wanted to throw up as they treated him, as you sat still, like a worthless piece of paper. A crumbled-up piece of paper. Yeah. Crumbled. 

When you arrived at the hospital—a hospital that wasn't yours, you walked beside the homeless man, nearly reaching for his hand. However, your race with him was put to a stop as the emergency room staff stopped you as he headed into the wing.

“I’m sorry, only family members are allowed inside,” the woman softly muttered, her eyes genuine. 

She reminded you of yourself.

What….what if this man was really homeless? What if he had no help, no insurance, no family? You had to do something. You’d feel horrible if you didn't do anything.

“I’m—I’m his wife!” you blurted out, louder than you intended. 

The young lady gave you a heartfelt look and nodded towards the door. “Go ahead. There’s a waiting room inside. What’s your name? I’ll let them know you’re the guardian.”

You told her your name, sparing no second longer than needed, and you ran into the emergency room, sitting down in a hurry.

It was now a waiting game.

—

For what seemed like forever, a doctor came out into the waiting room, looking right at you. 

“Miss y/n?” He asked.

“Yes?”

He cleared his throat. “….You are Kim Hongjoong’s guardian?”

You paused, almost forgetting your whole spiel at the entrance. You remembered the name from his ID in his wallet, and nodded sharply, standing up quickly. “Is he all right?”

“He sustained many injuries, but nothing too major. His arm is broken in three places, and that will limit his mobility quite a lot. We set his arm, but he might possibly need surgery.”

You nodded, relief washing over you. Good, minor injuries. Phew. 

The doctor pondered for a long while as he stared at you. “The paramedics stated that you were the one to hit him with the car.”

You sighed. “Yeah, he came out of nowhere—”

“Why was he walking alone so late at night?”

You looked around the waiting room, seeing only one other soul in the corner seat, sleeping. You wondered about what to say, as your little white lie was becoming a web. 

“I uh….he works late?”

“He was intoxicated at the time of the accident—”

“He works at a bar?” you tried not to sound like you were questioning that statement.

The doctor deadpanned and then sighed. “Listen, I’m sure there's stuff that’s none of my business. So I’m going to choose to ignore this,” he nodded toward the emergency wing. “But you’re welcome to go see him. He’s awake now.”

You wondered for a second whether you should go back there. If he was going to rip your head off for lying, for hitting him with your damn car.

You nodded, telling yourself to grow some damn balls. “Okay, I’ll see him.”

The doctor led you to a room at the very end of the hall, the lights dim. There, in front of you, was the man you hit. He was all bandaged up, a large one spanning around his forehead, covering some of the spikey black hair. His arm was wrapped in a cast and held up for circulation, and his eyes were wide open. Right on you.

“Your wife is here,” the doctor spoke nonchalantly as he entered with you. However, you were stationary at the door. 

“Wife?” he scoffed, coughing a bit. He tried to sit up, but you put on your act, walking up to his bedside. 

“Don't move,” you spoke sweetly, eyes pleading. The attractive man just furrowed a brow, his lips curling down in a grimace.

“We’re gonna keep you here for observation tonight, and see how you are doing in the morning to keep an eye on that arm of yours.” The doctor quickly did what he needed to do and left, leaving you alone with….your husband?

The pretty homeless guy spared no second in the questioning. “Who the fuck are you?”

Your eyes widened, looking down at him. He gazed up at you, his eyelashes fluttering as he blinked. A tattoo peaked out of his hospital gown, where it met the skin of his neck. 

“Listen,” you sat down roughly on the seat next to the bed. He watched you emotionlessly. “I’m sorry—I didn't see you when you walked across the road. I take full responsibility,” you breathed, getting nervous under his gaze. 

You were expecting him to scream at you. Well, at least to freak out in some way. It was more alarming that he sat still, completely still, his mouth set in a line.

You blinked.

“I don't care, it’s fine,” he sighed. He showed no emotion, nothing. Not even a twinkle of anger. It was the look in his eye that told you that maybe, just maybe, he ran in front of your car on purpose.

Your eyes widened at the man in front of you—at hongjoong in front of you. He looked distraught tired, brown eyes never leaving your face as you gazed at him. He raised his eyebrows slightly, tilting his head.

“You can leave now,” he huffed, eyes dropping to your open mouth before darting up back to your eyes. “I’m not sure why you're even here in the first place.”

It was your turn to scoff. You crossed your legs in irritation at his lack of care. “Well, maybe because I hit you with my damn car? Maybe I’m worried, maybe I feel horrible, maybe I wanted to see if you were going to be okay.”

Hongjoong just blankly stared. He didn't show any signs of pain, of anger, of anything, really. 

“You don't have to worry,” he spoke eventually, turning away from your gaze to look forward. You watched the tattoo dance against his neck as he moved. “I’m fine. This is all fine.”

You didn't know what to say, how to feel. Your head was spinning, all the tiredness washed away. It pained you to see him so empty, so barren, even though he was a stranger. “I feel like I need to do something for you.”

He bit the bottom of his busted lip, as if forgetting. He made a face, the only expression he’s shone. “No need.”

“But I need to,” you leaned forward, closer to him. He turned to you, eyes void. “I’ll pay for your hospital bill, maybe treat you for a dinner, I don't know—”

“Don't,” he hissed. His eyes grew dark, the fire in them rising. You nearly shrunk back in response to his sudden change of attitude. “Listen, just forget about this, about me, all of it. I don't need your money, or your time, or—” he paused, his anger faltering as he looked at you. “Just…just carry on with your life. I’ll only affect it if I stay in it.”

You frowned, wondering what he meant by that. It didn't matter, though. Your guilt was all-consuming—and the fact that he most likely ended up in front of the car on purpose really was overbearing.

After a second of just…staring at one another, you sighed. “One meal.”

He didn't make a face. Didn't change his plain, empty expression. You looked at his starless eyes, his pale skin. You had the need to brighten him up, to heal him. That was your job, after all.

He opened his mouth to speak, but a nurse came in before he could say a word. You immediately straightened, putting on a smile, hoping he would keep up the act even though he had no reason to. You didn't want to be kicked out—not right now. 

“How are we feeling, Hongjoong?” the young nurse asked, a smile on her bright face. 

“Fine, I guess.” His response was toneless. The nurse still bubbled around, checking his vitals. You watched as he stiffened as the woman touched him. 

She looked at you, arching a brow. “Oh? Are you the wife?” she let out a hum of appreciation, then turned her gaze to Hongjoong. “You’re lucky with this one. They said she freaked out when they didn't stabilize your arm and when they wouldn't let her inside the emergency wing! She must really love you to nearly fight someone to get back here.”

Hongjoong, for the little time you knew him, showed more emotion on his face than ever after hearing that. After hearing that someone—you, a stranger nonetheless—was distraught at his expense. His lips flattened in a line, his gaze faltering.

You grabbed his good hand, although bruises were painted across his knuckles. Old, yellowing bruises. You furrowed your brows, subconsciously rubbing a thumb softly over the colored skin. Hongjoong stiffened, eyes widening, at either your caring touch or the pain it could have been causing. Or both.

You felt your stomach tighten as you met eyes with him. The air was stuffy, his eyes were….practically begging for a reason for your attention, as if he’d never had it before.

“I’m lucky to have him,” you sighed, acting but feeling an intense pull to him. Just touching him, although you didn't even know him, felt like a second nature. 

Maybe it was the regret, the disparity, of hitting him, of being the reason his life was almost nonexistent. Maybe this feeling was because of the responsibility you felt for doing this to him. It didn't matter if it was true; this tension you were feeling with the stranger was more powerful than what you felt with your ex, the one before that, and the one before.

His face was devout of color besides the bruises that scattered his skin. He looked drained, tired, alone. The nurse just smiled at you two, noticing your bloody scrubs and messy exterior. “You’re a nurse, too?”

You just nodded, lost in the feeling that strummed through your body.

Hongjoong’s hand twitched under your hold, his eyes still wide. Still on you.

“Well, Hongjoong,” the friendly nurse smiled. “Don't let her go, she’s a keeper.”

He tore his gaze from you to look at your hand on his. He swallowed hard, blinking. “Ah, yeah.”

Soon after the nurse left, your hand still rested on his. He sat silently, staring forward at the whiteboard with his name on it.

“I….” you struggled with your words, realizing you were still caressing his hand. “I’m sorry,” you said as you pulled your hand away. His head shot towards you.

After a few moments of silence, he said, “It’s okay.” His tone was soft, defeated. 

You wiped your hands on your thighs, sweating buckets. “I, uh, I should go.”

He watched you stand up, but your back was turned, unable to see the wishful glance he offered you. 

You stopped in the door frame, turning around to meet his eyes once more. 

“It was nice to meet you, Hongjoong,” you smiled, watching the glimmer in his eye trying to sparkle. “I wish you well.”

Before you were able to leave the room, he called for you.

“Wait,” he breathed, voice raspy.

You froze.

He took a breath in, exhaling his words. “What’s your name?” 

You turned around. “Y/n,” you spoke softly, your chest aching at the little half-smile peeking through his bruised lips.

“y/n,” he repeated, blinking slowly. He didn't say anything else. You didn't either. You smiled at him once more before turning on your heel and walking out of the room, despite the tear in your heart telling you to stay.

And on your way out, you paid his hospital bill in full, not a single regret in your mind about it.

—

After a few days, you continued your days like normal.

Well, as normal as they could be. Your mind wandered to the spikey haired guy at every sparing second, thinking of how his eyes pleaded something unreadable, how his hand twitched underneath yours.

You were at the hospital, reaching the end of your workday in the emergency room. After running in with a few scruffy-looking guys, they reminded you of a certain someone, and you just wanted to tear at your hair. You were certain your odd feelings were due to the fact that you hit him with your car, and nothing else. This will pass. 

When the quietness of the night was about to still, a man ran into the emergency room door.

“My friend is hurt,” The man huffed in desperation. You turned to the commotion, seeing a thin, black-haired man holding up another—his friend. But that friend and his familiar spikey hair jolted something inside of you.

You jumped out of your seat behind the nurses’ station and ran to the men, meeting eyes with the taller one. He was just as beautiful as hongjoong was, but his eyes were frantic.

“Sir, what happened?” you questioned, reaching out to the man who was just who you thought. Hongjoong’s head rolled back, his eyes squinted in pain, his teeth barred. You carefully steadied him. “What’s hurting you?”

At your voice, Hongjoong opened his eyes wide, looking straight at you. “Y/n?” he grunted out, his breaths strained. He shut his eyes again, and you almost couldn't take the look he had on his face.

“His arm,” the other guy said to you as you called for help,  struggling to hold Hongjoong up. “He got into a fight at the bar, some guy decided to mess with his broken arm and, well…..”

You felt a sense of rage fill your body. You wanted to ask Hongjoong why the hell he was at the bar only days after getting hit by a damn car, let alone getting into a fight.

A few other nurses gathered around, all helping to walk him over to a bed. The wing was empty at this time of night—only a few people around. Once again, Hongjoong looked extremely uncomfortable as the nurses touched him.

You held him gently as you set him down on the bed, feeling his fingers curl around your arm.

He held on to you with his good arm—the hand you held only days before. The other nurses fluttered around, setting things up, but Hongjoong just stared up at you.

“Hi,” is all he said, his fingertips etching into your skin.

Your chest tightened, forcing yourself to smile. “We must be fated or something,” you joked, hoping to brighten him up. “That or you just frequent hospitals often.”

He blinked up at you, his eyebrows knitted in pain. “Maybe I just wanted to see you again.” He coughed as he joked.

Your heart skipped a beat, the other nurses and the man that came with him side-eyeing you.

“If you wanted to see me again, there are better ways than this,” you huffed, looking around. “We have to get an X-ray, alright? We’ll give you something to ease your pain meanwhile.”

The air between you two was undeniable. He nodded, emotion sparkling in his eyes, unlike the days before. You wondered if you were the reason for it.

It was probably just the pain.

The other nurses wheeled him to the radiology room, leaving you alone with the man who brought him there.

“You’re the girl that hit him, aren't you?” His voice was soft, gentle. It held no anger.

You turned to him, seeing the caring exterior he showed. “I….yes.”

He tilted his head at you, blinking, as if figuring you out in a single glance. “He’s been looking all over for you. You…paid his bill. He doesn't like handouts.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh? I didn't think he ever wanted to see me again. You know, I hit him with my car—that isn't something to take lightly—”

“You paid his bill,” the man repeated, crossing his arms. “He feels indebted to you. Please just make sure he knows not to feel that way.” The man sighed, looking into your eyes. “Despite how he looks, he ruminates over things. He’s sensitive. He’s a mess right now.”

You sighed, too. “I…I paid his bill because I did this to him—”

“No,” he interrupted, eyes serious. “You didn't.”

You knitted your brows. “....What do you mean?”

The man gave you a deadpan stare, as if not wanting to spell it out. He let out a breath he seemed to be holding. “He….he jumped in front of your car on purpose, y/n,” he bit his bottom lip. “So no, you really didn't do it to him. He’s…he’s just been a mess lately—and now that you acted sweet, played a wife, held his hand or whatever, he’s even more of a mess.”

Before you could ask what he meant by that, Hongjoong was back, alert and upright, but the pain still rested on his face. His gaze met yours, and you felt your stomach swirl in a mess of emotions.

You couldn't look him in the eye as you took care of him.

—

Hongjoong was sleeping as your shift was about to end. Before you clocked out, you couldn't help but go to him, check his injury out, check his vitals. His friend—Seonghwa, you learned his name—left about an hour ago.

As if noticing your presence, his eyes slowly peeked open, slightly drugged and delirious from the pain medications.

“I didn't expect to see you here,” he mumbled out, blinking lazily.

“I didn't expect you, either,” you spoke, keeping your emotions in check.

Silence enveloped you as you checked his pulse ox. 

“Why’d you do that?”

He turned his head to look at you. “Do what?”

You unclipped the pulse oximeter from his finger. “Why’d you get into that fight? You were really injured.” You wanted to ask the deeper question, the question as to why he stepped in front of your car, but you didn't want to overstep.

He shrugged, wincing. He didn't have an answer. He didn't owe you one, really. 

“Just,” you breathed, moving over to the computer to open his chart. “Just don't do anything like this while you’re healing. You need surgery. You need rest.”

He bit his lip, probably stopping himself from saying something he shouldn't. 

“Also,” you sighed, looking over at him. “Your friend told me you were looking for me?”

“Yeah, well,” he scoffed. “I really didn't mean to meet you here.”

You let out a chuckle. “Well, here we are.”

He nearly smiled at you, lips curling beautifully. He had a bit of dried blood on his lip, and knowing that you were supposed to be leaving, you still reached for a washcloth. You didn't need to do this—in fact, you were acting against every thought in your head as you leaned forward and brushed the cloth against his lip, watching them part.

His breath hitched as you neared, as you touched him, and once again, his hand twitched, begging to touch you.

Your hand lingered on his cheek for a moment too long, meeting his eyes. He stared at you, expression unreadable, lips parted.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

You took a second to study his face before you moved away from him. His eyes followed you as you put space between you and him, dark and beautiful. 

You logged out of the portal on the computer. “We’ll move you to your own room before we prep you for surgery,” you said gently, heart aching as you met his gaze once more. “The doctor will tell you more.”

“Will you….be there for the surgery?” he showed no specific feelings as he asked the question.

“I am only part of the emergency department right now,” you shrugged. “I don't think so.”

He pondered for a second before nodding, settling himself back into the comfort of his hospital bed. “Okay,” he spoke softly.

You offered him a solemn look, causing him to stiffen.

“What?” he asked.

“What?” you repeated, confused.

He blinked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” you frowned.

“Like you feel sorry for me.” He looked pained, a deeper type of pain.

You thought about a response to that—you didn't necessarily feel sorry for him, you didn't pity him either. In fact, you just felt an immense feeling of wanting to see him happy, to see him without pain.

Which confused you incredibly, given that he was just a stranger.

“I don't feel sorry for you,” you clarified. “I just don't want you to be in pain.”

“You don't even know me,” he huffed, his expression contorting, and you figured that he didn't even know how he was feeling—what he was feeling. “Why would you even care if I’m hurting?”

You smiled at him. “Because you don't deserve the pain.”

He just stared at you, hazily, emotionally. There was a light in his eyes—a light that wasn't there the other day. “You don't know me well enough to know that.”

The air grew cold; you had nothing left to say. You wished he realized that he didn't have to suffer like this.

“Goodnight, Hongjoong,” you hummed, walking away, feeling his stare burn into your back.

—

The next day, you found yourself drawn to the bed Hongjoong was in yesterday. It was empty, with him now in a room of his own in another part of the hospital.

You typed away at your computer as your colleague, Yeosang, came up to you. 

“Hey,” he leaned over the counter of the nurses’ station. “There's a guy asking for you.”

Yeosang, although very young, was a surgical resident in orthopedics. He was super smart, super sexy, super everything. You went to school together, spending lots of time in the library and everywhere else together. 

“Who?” you mumbled without looking up.

“He’s a patient I’m prepping for an open reduction surgery, but he’s having a hard time letting anyone touch him. Says he only needs you or something.”

You looked up, hands freezing on your keyboard. Hongjoong. “He won't let anyone touch him?”

Yeosang sighed, propping his head up on his palm as he leaned on the counter. “We had to give him more pain medication, and it made him a bit….difficult. I suspect he has some sort of trauma.”

You frowned. “And why is he asking for me?”

Yeosang gave you a knowing look. “I don't know. He kept saying your name, saying he needed you.”

You tried to avoid the rush of blood to your cheeks. “I don't even know him.”

“Yeah, about that….” Yeosang looked a bit confused, a smile peeking through his lips. “He keeps calling you his wife.”

Oh, dear god. “How drugged is he?” you huffed, looking defeated. 

Yeosang laughed. “I kept telling him that you weren't his wife, and he got super mad at me. He said only his wife can touch him. I really need him to stop this so I can get him into pre-op,” The surgeon sighed, giving you a pleading glance. “I’ll ask the attending if you can scrub in—”

“I’m an ER nurse,” you raised a brow. “I have other duties, Yeosang.”

“Y/n, please,” Yeosang pleaded, “ignore the rules or whatever. Can you just come and help me so we can get him into surgery?”

Your mind wandered to the fact that Hongjoong was having a hard time. Sure, he was delirious off of his meds and pain, but knowing that he was struggling with touch, a part of you crumbled.

So you followed Yeosang—after getting approved by the charge nurse, and went up to the third floor.

As you neared the room, you let Yeosang enter first. 

“Mr. Kim, I have Nurse y/n here for you.”

There Hongjoong was, his eyes frantic, his breathing rushed. He was anxious, a mess. The nurses tried to ease him, and relax him, but he wasn't having it. That is, until he saw you in the doorway.

“y/n,” he breathed, as if he knew you forever. Everyone in the room let out a sigh of relief.

“Hi, Hongjoong,” you spoke softly, walking slowly near him. You sat in the chair next to his bed, scooting closer as the room emptied, Yeosang being the only other presence. “I heard you were asking for me.”

He blinked, his eyes lined with worry, with anxiety. For someone who looks so tough, he looks like a completely different person.

He didn't speak; he just looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed, his expression all over the place. You took a glance at Yeosang, who was observing you before you reached for Hongjoong's hand just like before. 

The bruises were faded now, only old scars left on his skin. A tattoo trailed the skin of his arm. You went to rub his knuckles,  but Hongjoong gripped your hand tightly.

You met his frantic gaze. No words were spoken. He just pleaded with his touch, his eyes. You knew he was scared. 

“It's okay,” you hummed, fighting the urge to tuck his hair behind his ear. “It's a simple surgery. You will be just fine.”

He mumbled something, but you weren't able to catch it. Yeosang stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, the other nurses peering over his shoulder from the hall. Hongjoong’s gaze moved to the door, seeing everyone watching him.

And you realized that, more than being anxious, he was embarrassed, too.

You looked to Yeosang, giving him a desperate look, a silent cry for him to leave and to get those damn nosy bitches out, too. He complied, and they were alone once more.

“It’s alright,” you hummed, and this time, you did reach out to his face, gliding a gentle hand across his cheek. Without thinking, he leaned into your touch, craving it, longing for it, as if you were really his wife. “They’re gone now.”

His eyes were droopy, his lips downturned. He looked tough, someone with a rough exterior, but now, he was crumbling. He was alone. Alone to the point that he called for you, basically a stranger to him. 

The moment could have lasted forever. His eyes bled into yours, yours into his, your hand on his cheek drawing circles into his skin. He took in a breath, and nodded.

“Will you let them take care of you?” you asked him gently.

He hesitated. You also did, as you realized that he leaned into your touch rather than avoiding it. That he felt comfortable with you—the one who hurt him. In his eyes, though, he didn't see it that way.

Your hand stilled on his cheek, his worried eyes lighting up a little. You didn't even realize that his good hand—the hand that you were holding just a minute before, was now resting on top of your hand that was on his cheek. He gripped it, his medical haze confusing him, confusing you.

You froze, your eyes wide. You allowed his fingers to interlock yours, having him hold your hand to his face as he shut his eyes. He was vulnerable. Human. Although he looked tough, looked troubled, he was just a person under all that trouble. Just a normal guy with normal feelings, normal fears.

And you were indebted to each other. You for hitting him, him for his gratefulness of your care.

“I’ll be there with you,” you murmured, knowing that Yeosang was still outside the room, close enough to hear, close enough to see. “I’ll be in the room while they’re operating.” 

He nodded, his grip loosening slightly, but he still didn't release your hand.

“I’ll look after you,” you offered, and his eyes met yours once more. 

He slowly let go of your hand, allowing you to move back. You looked at Yeosang through the window, giving him a curt nod for him to come back in. 

Hongjoong let the other nurses touch him, but not without a grimace on his face. Yeosang’s words swirled around your mind; I suspect he has some sort of trauma.

Trauma. Trauma that didn't quite reach you—your touch. He allowed it, actually, he wanted it. You wondered what made him okay with yours. Why he needed you when you were the one to do this to him.

Eventually, Hongjoong entered the operating room, knocked out by anesthesia, but not without you holding his hand, making him childlike, making him….a normal human being.

—

After the surgery, Hongjoong sat in his bed even more dazed than before. Before the daze wore off, he kept calling you his wife, causing confusion to stir around the hospital. 

As you left Hongjoong’s room to go back to the ER, Yeosang followed. “What’s this about?”

“I don't know what you mean.” 

You walked faster.

“I mean, why does that guy keep calling you his wife?” Yeosang’s shoulder bumped into yours accidentally as you turned a corner. “And why are you the only one who can touch him? Why did you—”

You stopped suddenly. “Why did I what?”

Yeosang let out a breath. “Why did you….touch him like that? As far as I know, you….you aren't married.”

“I’m not married, you’re right,” you nodded, confused by why you touched him like that, too. Confused as to why he looked so relaxed with your touch rather than freaking out. “And…let’s just say we have met each other before. I did that to calm him down.”

You continued walking towards the elevator, Yeosang following still. “Okay, but you still didn't answer my question about why he keeps calling you his wife.” you pressed the down button and waited.

“Is that really any of your business?”

“Just a little—”

“Why?” you interrupted, turning towards him, arms crossed. “Why does it matter to you?”

You didn't mean to sound rude, you and Yeosang were good friends for a while. You've never dated, but you’ve flirted with each other occasionally. You never thought much of it other than being a little playful.

But the look on Yeosang’s face caused you to pause your racing thoughts. “Because I thought we…we had something going on?”

You blinked. “Do we?”

“I mean,” Yeo scoffed. “With the way you were looking at him, I don't think I have a chance.”

The elevator dinged, doors opening. You paused for a second before entering, Yeosang following.

It was quiet before the doors closed.

“I didn't think I looked at him any differently than anyone else,” you admitted honestly, causing Yeosang to look over at you. 

He gave you a smile, although it didn't quite reach his eyes. “You feel something for him, huh?”

You frowned, leaning back against the wall. “I barely know him. I only…” you sighed. “I only met him twice.”

“But yet, you are the only one he allows to touch him,” Yeosang breathed as the elevator dinged on the first floor. 

“That’s something to think about.”

—

Hongjoong was back to his normal self when you went to check on him in the evening; the anesthesia and meds had worn off. His arm was bandaged up and held in a sling, his eyes empty once more. 

You hesitated on entering, but his stare moved to you.

For a second, you saw regret, and embarrassment, cross his face before melting back into a void stare.

You entered, but he didn't look at you. He avoided your gaze, too. Very unlike his earlier, medical high self. 

You took his blood pressure, fingertips gently wrapping around his tattooed bicep as you put the cuff on. He didn't say anything, didn't even spare a passing glance. He just kept looking forward.

“119 over 79,” you mumbled out, letting loose of the cuff.

He nodded, coughing a bit. He didn't say anything, though.

“Dr. Kang told me that you’re cleared to be discharged,” you tried to start a conversation, but things just felt too awkward. You wrote down his vitals in his chart. “That’s good. Can I call anyone to pick you up? Maybe the guy that was here—”

“No,” he said quietly, looking down at his arm. “There is no one to call.”

“You need someone to help you. You just had surgery—”

“I have no one, y/n,” he hissed, finally looking at you. “Not like that’s any of your business, anyway.”

You didn't know what to say, so you just stared at him with confusion. He was putting his walls up.

“I just….don't want you to suffer alone,” you admitted.

“Why?” he let out a laugh, but it wasn't humorous. “I don't need your worry.”

“Okay,” you breathed, defeated. There was no point; he was just a stranger, just a man. Although, this feeling you had about him was overwhelming. And when you touched him, you wanted to hold him longer. Wanted him to feel better.

You left the room without a glance toward him and carried on the rest of your day as best you could.

—

Hongjoong was sitting on the bench outside the hospital entrance, head low, as if sleeping.

You knew you should keep walking. You shouldn't give him any attention, any time of day. But your chest ached as you got closer and closer, and as you reached him, you couldn't bear to walk past him.

“Why are you still here?” you asked him, keeping a good amount of distance away from him.

At your voice, he looked up quickly, as if waiting for you despite his nastiness earlier.

He took a second to respond. “I, uh, I’m just sitting here.”

You looked him over. His black hair was no longer styled spikey, it laid flat across his forehead softly. His tattoos were on full display in the black t-shirt he wore. 

“You don't have anywhere to go,” you meant to ask it like a question, but it came out more like a declaration. He furrowed his brows at your words but didn't deny it.

“I’m fine, I’ll figure it out,” he sniffed, the cold air dancing around him. He didn't even have a coat.

Without thinking, you spoke quickly. “Come with me.”

He tilted his head. “Why?”

“Because,” you huffed, taking a step closer to him. “I owe you.”

“For what?” he spat out, probably not intending to sound rude. 

You gave him an honest look, and his eyes softened. “Did you just forget that I hit you with my car? That I broke your arm?”

He just sat there, blinking slowly. “You don't owe me anything, y/n.”

You reached your hand out. His own hand twitched. “Come with me.”

After a long moment of just staring at your outstretched hand, he let his hand find yours, standing up at his full height. You got a good look at his face, his eyes, his lips. He was breathtakingly beautiful. So beautiful. 

You held his hand as you walked to your car, feeling a flutter of emotion in the pit of your stomach.

When you got to the car, you helped him into the passenger seat, despite his aggravated digs at you. You leaned over him, buckling his seatbelt, feeling his hot breath against your cheek.

You paused, frozen, inches away from his lips.

He swallowed hard, eyes glancing down at your lips. He didn't make a move. You didn't, either. 

You pulled away, forcing yourself to get out of his personal space to shut the door. You saw him tilt back his head and take a deep breath before you got to the driver's seat.

As you drove, you asked random questions like a goddamn idiot.

“So, uh,” you swallowed, looking over at him for a second. “What do you do for a living?”

What kind of damn question is that?

“I’m a musician,” he mumbled, looking out the window. “Kind of.”

“Ah,” you nodded, thinking of what to say next. Now you were thinking way too much into things. “What do you play?”

He looked down at his arm, sighing. “Well, I played the guitar, piano, some other things. I don't think I’ll be picking anything up for a while.”

“You will, eventually,” you tried to encourage him, but he just kept his gaze even out the window. You arrived at your apartment, pulled into the parking lot, and shut off the car. “We’re here.”

He nodded, watching you get out of the car. You opened his door, and with slight hesitation, you leaned over him again to unbuckle his seatbelt, but before you could, he stopped you with his good arm. 

You paused, inches from his face, meeting his eyes.

“Thanks,” he muttered quietly. “I’m sorry for how I acted earlier.”

“You don't have to be sorry,” you whispered, feeling an immense pull to him, to his lips.

You ignored the urge and unbuckled the belt, but you didn't back away. Not like you could, anyway, with Hongjoong’s grip on your arm tightening.

The belt slowly slipped off of him.

He chewed on his bottom lip, his eyes dancing with emotion. “I was just… embarrassed. And drugged, and uh, well,” he paused, thinking. “Mostly embarrassed. I can't believe I freaked out over a little surgery. That’s so lame—”

“No, it's not,” you hummed softly, delicately. “It's a normal fear.”

He smiled. Actually smiled. From the little time you knew him, you haven't seen a genuine smile on his face. Or any sort of light, really.

“Thanks, uh,” he sniffed. “Thanks again. For looking after me.” his eyes fell to your lips. “You don't even know me, and you still…” he trailed off.

You realized that you were inhaling the air he was exhaling, that you were eye to eye, almost nose to nose. His breaths were shaky, labored, and tired. 

“I would want someone to look after me in the same way,” You whispered. “That’s all.”

“That’s all?” he tilted his head upward, leaning against the headrest, warm, brown eyes on full display. 

“Mhm,” you swallowed. 

His eyes glimmered. He didn't have anything to say, and you didn't either. Realizing that you were shrinking the space ever so slowly, you took the opportunity to back away from the musician. He let go of your arm, but not without a little tug on it beforehand.

You cleared your throat as he got out of the car. You shut the door for him, and you walked together—slowly, till you reached your apartment door.

When you entered, hongjoong strayed back behind the door, not entering. You turned to face him, eyebrow raised. 

“Come in,” you beckoned, and with one more second of hesitation, he followed you in, shutting the door behind him.

He surveyed the place, his eyes finding the piano that sat in the corner of the room. His eyes danced as if surprised to see it there.

The air was thick. The room was quiet. You tossed off your shoes with ease, noticing his struggle with his own, so you bent down the help him. He didn't pull away, didn't speak. He just let you take care of it—of him.

“I don't mean to be a bother,” he mumbled as you untied his shoe. “But I’d really like to shower.”

You glanced up at him. “Oh,” you nodded, taking off his shoe before standing up. “Sure. it’s the first door down the hall.”

He didn't make any move. He stood, a confused, shy look resting on his face.

And then you realized.

He had no clothes to change into. Nothing. He also only had one working arm, and one covered in material that couldn't get wet.

“I can help you,” you trailed off, trying not to read too much into his stare. 

“If you comfortable with that.”

—

In the bathroom, Hongjoong stood anxiously as you waited for the water to warm up. It took a second, and most of the time, the hot water only lasted so long.

You figured a shower would be too difficult to help him with without seeing too much. You opted for a warm bath, filling the water up once it got hot enough. You made sure to add some suds to it, so he wasn't too uncomfortable.

When you turned around to face him,  his eyes were cloudy, his lips in a line.

“Do you….not like baths?” you mumbled, scratching your head. “I probably should've asked you before I—”

“It’s not that.” His eyes met yours, switching his weight onto his other leg. 

You didn't pry, knowing he was just probably embarrassed that he needed help for something as trivial as a bath. 

Walking toward him, he backed up into the door. You nearly smirked but maintained your cool as you grabbed the plastic bag off the sink counter. “I just have to wrap your cast in this. It'll just be a second. You might want to take your shirt off before I….”

He blinked, eyes wide. “Huh?”

“I don't think you normally bathe in clothes,” you murmured slyly, tilting your head. “Unless you like that.”

He didn't move. His body was as stiff as a board, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“Just take your shirt off, dammit, or I’ll do it for you.”

You saw his expression change the minute the words left your mouth.

His good hand found the hem of his t-shirt, hesitating to take it off. You realized that he probably did need your help with taking it off, but with the look in his eye, you weren't sure what would happen if you got any closer to him.

But you moved closer, anyway, setting the plastic bag back onto the counter. His back was nearly up against the wooden door, his breath hitching as your fingertips gently pulled at the fabric.

“Why are you….so okay with this?” he breathed before you could pull the shirt up.

You met his gaze, his eyes unreadable. Almost as if he didn't know what he was feeling, either. 

“I told you already,” you shrugged, smiling.

He blinked, his eyes red with emotion, begging to send a flood down his cheeks. “I don't deserve your help.”

“You do, though.” Ever so slowly, you began to pull his shirt, soft, carved abs appearing as you moved it up. “Because you know, you don't have to suffer alone.”

“Who said I was suffering?” he croaked out, his eyes, his tone, spilling his guts out on the floor for her to see. 

You didn't say anything. You just slowly tugged the black t-shirt over his casted arm, watching him wince slightly. Then, he stood, half-naked, emotionally charged in front of you. He was no longer a stranger. No longer someone that you classified as a patient, either.

His eyes spoke volumes, his good hand twitching at his side. You looked at it, and took it in your own.

“Come on,” you nodded behind you. “I’ll help.”

He looked like he was ready to cry. Ready to break down. He didn't, though, and you walked him over to the bath. You unbuttoned his jeans, but turned around as he stepped out of them and into the tub. 

The soap covered his lower body, all that was on display was his torso, his slim shoulders, the tattoos inked on his tanned skin.  He didn't break away from your gaze as you began to wash him.

“I feel….something I shouldn't be feeling,” he swallowed, his voice raspy, tender, defeated. 

“And what’s that?” you wondered before running your hands through his silky hair, coating the strands in your lavender shampoo.

He shut his eyes, sighing. “I don't know what it is, but what I do know is, for some reason, your touch is very calming when everyone else’s hurts me.”

You paused, hands still tangled in his locks, but he opened his eyes.

A confession of feelings—worth more than any other cliche words. He stared up at you, heart on his sleeve, confusion and fear and everything in between dancing around his eyes.

“For the first time,” he whispered, the only sounds in the room being your shaky breathing and the quiet trickle of water from the spigot. “I feel…comfortable being touched. I….need it.”

His lips parted, his hair dripping wet, your hands still frozen within the strands. You didn't know how to respond, didn't know exactly how you felt, either. But you also knew one thing, and it became ever so apparent as his hand slowly reached your cheek, wet fingertips leaving a trail of soap across your skin.

You blinked slowly.

Softly, gently, you moved forward, over the tub, and brushed your lips against his. His eyes remained open from shock, but his lips moved slowly along with yours.

You pulled away, but didn't go too far, resting your forehead against his. His breaths tickled your skin, sending a blush to your cheeks. 

Emotions are complex. You didn't know exactly why you kissed him. Why you needed to. Why you wanted to do it again. But what you did know was that you liked how his touch felt, liked the little smile that appeared as you kissed him, liked how he gently pulled you back into another kiss.

You took in his breath as you kissed once more, this time a bit more urgent. Your hands gripped his soapy hair, his hand rested softly on your cheek, his thumb on the corner of your lips, his fingers tickling the lobe of your ear. 

He kissed you like he knew you forever. Like he knew just how you liked it. You found your hand trailing down his tattooed neck, fingers dancing on the ink, his dewy skin, his tongue in your mouth.

You parted once more, so close, breaths tangling, fingers scrunching. His breath was hot against your face, his dark eyes pleading.

You’d so get on top of him in that damn tub. You wanted to, so bad. But you remembered that his arm was hurt, that you were the one that did it, and you nearly stood up to move away before he gripped you by the arm.

“Don't go,” he breathed hazily.

So you didn't. You washed him, this time, knowing that you were begging to end this bath and fuck him silly till the sunrise. Till the warm, glow of the burning star fluttered through your blinds. And with that damn look on his face, you knew he was thinking about it, too.

You helped him out of the bath, not turning around this time. He stood slowly, body on full display, even more tattoos, even more scars covering the skin you didn't get to see. 

You sheepishly handed him a towel. He took it, but didn't use it to cover himself up.

“You’re not dating that damn doctor, are you?” he spoke, his tone serious, deep. Sensuous. 

You breathed out, “No.” 

He grinned, cheshire-like. “Good.”

You could tell he wanted to rip your clothes off. He wanted to claw at your skin like some goddamn animal, his expression pained in all of the right ways. 

You needed air. God, this bathroom was stuffy.

Turning on your heel, you forced yourself to walk out of the damn room, because if you didn't, Hongjoong would become something far more stranger than, well, a stranger to you.

But he had other plans. More impulsive plans.

He followed you out of the bathroom and into your main living space. He gripped your hand, his fingertips gently pressing into your skin. When you turned to face him, he was dripping wet onto the lightwash wood floor, beads of water collecting on the ends of his hair. His eyes were wide, begging you for something, anything.

So you gave up on your act.

“Do you want to fuck me right now?” you wheezed, smiling as his eyes widened even more. “Is that what you want?”

You stepped closer to him at his silence, and arched your body against his bare torso, feeling the hardness of him press your thigh, his lips begging to meet yours once more.

You teased him, lifting your mouth to his, letting out a sigh. He shivered as your hands felt up his bare skin, and your hot breath tickled his face. 

He nearly growled, his good arm wrapping around your waist swiftly, tugging your body towards him completely, holding you here as his mouth crashed to yours. His broken arm begged to touch you, too, and without thinking, he moved it quickly. He hissed in pain, his arm definitely hurting him, but he didn't care as much as you did. You tried to part from his lips, to ask him if he was okay, but he bit hard down on your lip to keep you from speaking. 

You moaned while he stuck his tongue down your throat, his hand now tearing at your top, your waistband. You hurriedly tore off your clothes for him, giving him no second to stare at your body before tossing yourself onto him again. He grunted, moaning into your mouth, the vibrations tickling every part of you. He pushed you back, nearly tripping over the throw rug, the coffee table, until your back slammed into the keyboard of your piano.

The keys slammed as your ass hit them roughly, the musician making music without even intending to. His hips bucked into yours, your core right where he needed it, his dick pulsing, aching to be inside you. You lifted your hips, grinding them against his cock, gaining pleasure in his expression.

He nearly whined as you bit his ear lobe, his hips shifting into you, begging for you.

“Can I get inside you?” he moaned, eyes frantic. “I need you, fuck, I need it bad.”

In more ways than one, he needed you, but now, he needed your body. Needed your touch, your moans. You obliged, your body already wet enough for him to enter. You lined up, and without a second to waste, he slowly moved into you, causing you to toss your head back at the feeling. His eyes rolled back; a whine left his pretty pink lips, his chest heaved in pleasure.

His head dipped to suck your nipple, tongue gliding over the sensitive skin of your breast. You huffed, trying so hard to breathe. He let out moans that did something dangerous to your body, to your mind. You moaned along with him as his hips snapped.

“Oh, god,” he whimpered, his tone light, airy. Water dripped onto the soft skin of his chest from his hair. “You feel so good.”

You smiled, tearing your hands up his back as the piano cried along with you. The keys clicked, moaning from the weight above them. The music filled the room, tangled within your breaths, your sweat. You gripped the back of his head, lacing your fingers through his wet, dripping hair, feeling yourself get wetter and wetter by the minute.

Your walls caved into him, his cock pulsing inside you. He looked into your eyes for a long moment as he moved, his black hair stuck to his forehead, his mouth open in gratification. He kissed you, tongue dragging across your bottom lip, tugging on it. He liked to bite.

You felt euphoria reach you before you knew it, and you cried out, gripping his hair, pulling it as he fucked you. His face pained, his teeth barred, his eyes shut tight. Just his expression—his appearance—could've made you come on the spot.

You felt tingles in your fingers, and your toes, and saw stars in your vision. Black spots fluttered, your heart rate probably much higher than it should be. You didn't care if you died right here, right now. It didn't matter. Nope. This was bliss. So much better than that damn vibrator.

You felt like you were on fire—no, more like a falling, burning star crashing to earth. Your stomach ached at his pressure, your hips aching, your head pounding. You came onto him with haste as your vision blurred, tearing into his shoulder blades, leaving little marks on his skin. At your actions, you witnessed the look of utter satisfaction on the pretty boy’s face, his breaths quickening, shallowing. He let out a whine, just as musical as the keys underneath you.

Before he could come, he pulled out, cumming all over your breasts, your stomach. You sighed, closing your eyes, trying to catch your breath.

He stared at you, eyes low, lips swollen and red. So fuckable, so delicious. 

He looked at how he painted you, smirking a bit to himself. He was so full of life, full of emotion. “Let me go grab that towel,” he breathed, his voice crackling a bit. You watched in enjoyment when he walked away from you, watching his ass, his legs, the tattoos move with him.

He returned with the towel, wiping you gently as if he hadn't just made you nearly black out. You gazed at him, not sure what you were feeling, how you were feeling. You could do it all night with him, with this guy who was a stranger only a couple of days before. It wasn't too often that you acted on your desires, but there was no possible way you were supposed to avoid this, avoid him.

When he was done, when you were clean, he set the towel down on the floor, but his eyes didn't leave you. 

“What?” you hummed.

“Just,” he breathed, smiling. “That was really good.”

“I hope so,” you chuckled the feeling of the room lightening, almost in a playful way. “I hope this wasn't your goal all along—you really freaked me out when I hit you.”

He looked down as you jumped off the piano. “Uh, yeah. I bet I did.”

You moved to him, gently reaching to hold his cheeks for him to look at you. “I got you now, huh? No more running in front of cars, unless it's mine. I’ll be prepared next time.”

His eyes widened as if he was shocked by your words. That you knew he did it on purpose. He didn't deny it. He just leaned into your touch, eyes closing tight in comfort.

“Like I said,” you started, giving his lips a little peck. “I’ll look after you, if you’ll allow it.”

He took in a deep breath, opening his eyes, meeting your sincere gaze. His lips curved up. “I’ll look after you, too.”

You smiled along with him. You wrapped your arms around his waist tightly, embracing him, feeling even more intimate than sex. He let out a shaky breath, as if finally realizing he wasn't alone, didn't have to be. That he deserved a caring touch, a longing touch, a needy touch. That he could actually have something to himself.

You didn't know what you were to each other, and it really didn't matter. There was no need to label it so specifically. You could be his rock, his personal nurse, the person to stitch him up when he gets hurt. The one he could confide in, have sex with, whatever he needed. Whatever you needed. 

So when he kissed the top of your head while you hugged him, you tightened your arms just a little, holding onto him as long as he’ll let you.

You’ll look after each other.

[jnnul]

falling in love at first sight (x3)

a/n: so i woke up in cold sweat and i had to write this. there's like 30k i could've written about this but tbh, i needed to get this out lol. also taesan has been living in my head rent free so this is his eviction notice. quick note: feedback, comments, etc. GREATLY encourage writers! if you felt any sort of way (in a good or bad way!) about this fic, pls leave feedback!

word count: 6.3k

tags: college au!, basketballplayer!taesan x nurse!y/n, honestly it's just a fluff piece, idiots in love, dongmin is DOWN BAD and falls in love with the same girl 3 times, uhh y/n is a feisty nurse warnings: taesan is called dongmin, uhh alcohol + memory loss involved with getting shitfaced lol

HAN DONGMIN DIDN'T REALLY BELIEVE IN SUPERSTITIONS. to him, things like 'knocking on wood' or 'not opening an umbrella inside' were just old wives' tales that didn't have much substance to them.

but after dongmin had shattered his bedroom mirror this morning (he'd accidentally launched his alarm clock across the room after sleeping too late last night), nearly every single thing in his life had gone wrong.

he'd put expired milk in his cereal because kim donghyun (his roommate) hadn't switched out the milk like he'd promised to the day before. then he went to take a shower, only to be burned by scalding hot water since the landlord refused to change the heating system, even though they'd been suffering through the sticky heat of august for fifteen days already. as if all of that wasn't enough, he'd accidentally torn his favorite hoodie trying to clean up the fragments that'd fallen on the floor. and when he was trying to salvage his hoodie, he scraped his forearm against the fragments, meaning he had a nasty gash along the long side of it.

which meant he'd have to go to the hospital to take care of this stupid bloody mess instead of going to class.

that was how han dongmin found himself sitting in the waiting room of the urgent care center of the hospital, a shoddy rag wrapped around his forearm, his essentials hoodie covered in blood, expired milk, and mirror dust.

needless to say, dongmin had gotten more than a few strange looks from the other people in the waiting room in the last four minutes he'd been there.

"han dongmin!" the receptionist calls out, and dongmin launches himself out of his chair, impatient to get this over with as soon as possible.

something about hospitals just gave dongmin the heebie jeebies. the fluorescent lighting, the smell of rubbing alcohol, the tangible feeling of sickness that wafted through the air.

ugh. dongmin hated hospitals. in fact, he was so sure that he would never even step foot in a hospital after this. if he needed to wrap himself in bubble wrap to do so, then so be it because he hated hospitals and he would never come ba -

dongmin stops dead in his tracks, right next to the recovery bed that the receptionist had led him to. standing in front of him was the most gorgeous person he'd ever seen in his life.

you were smiling at something the patient in front of you was saying, leaning over to bandage the patient's scrape with a little bandaid that had cartoon ryans all over it.

fuck that.

dongmin was ready to break his leg if it meant that he got to stay in the hospital and stare at your beautiful face all day. before he could find something big and heavy to knock his leg into, however, you make your way over to dongmin, clipboard and first aid kit in hand.

"hello," you say with a soft smile. "my name is y/n l/n and i'll be taking care of you today. is there anything i can help you with?"

"will you go out with me?" the words escape dongmin's mouth before he can even process what he's saying and you immediately lean backwards, a disproving wrinkle between your eyebrows.

"excuse me?" you say, and it's clear that dongmin's not gonna be in your good graces if he hits on you. he really hoped you were like this with everyone and not that you just found him super unattractive or anything (donghyun swore up and down that dongmin was not ugly - especially now that he'd dyed his hair! but donghyun also never had to chase after a girl in his life so...). or worse, if you already had a boyfriend.

but before he can ruminate about your affronted stance too deeply, dongmin rushes to fix his mistake. "i mean, hospitals really freak me out. the ethanol smell and the lighting and everything kinda gets in my head, you know what i mean? do you think you could just slap some gauze on outside?"

the tension in your shoulders immediately relaxes and you take a step forward once more, setting the first aid kit down next to dongmin.

"oh yeah, that makes sense," you say, sounding relieved. "unfortunately, i can only provide care while inside the hospital to make sure that the instruments and gauze are sterile to prevent any contamination. i promise i'll be as quick as possible so i can get you out of here!" you explain, a slight pout tugging your lips down in the most adorable way as you seem genuinely sorry for dongmin.

it was official: han dongmin was in love.

"no, don't worry. take your time. i mean, the cut is pretty bad and i don't wanna leave any mirror guts in it," dongmin says. as quick as possible, my ass, he thinks to himself. i gotta find a way to make this last for as long as i can.

"of course!" you assure, before looking down at the clipboard. "so i assume you cut yourself on a broken mirror? does it hurt when you apply pressure?"

what was the answer that would keep you here longer?

"yes?"

"are you asking me or telling me?"

"telling?"

"very convincing. i'm gonna need to apply pressure and confirm for myself then, if that's alright with you?" you look at him in a way that seems to be somewhat apprehensive and dongmin has never wanted to reverse time more than in this very instant.

until he doesn't because your hands are on his forearm, examining the wound gently and applying pressure around the open gash.

"does it hurt when i do this?" you ask, eyes trained on the way that his forearm muscles ripple and move as you apply pressure in different places.

dongmin's not the most buff guy on the planet, and you checking out his muscles was definitely not for your own pleasure, but at least all of his time on the court and in the gym has paid off in some way.

"uh...no. not unless you're super close to the cut," dongmin says and you nod with a gentle smile. it's in that moment that dongmin decides that he would kill anyone and anything just to see you smile like that again,

"that's good to hear. well, i guess that all we need to do is 'slap some gauze on' after disinfecting the wound and making sure we don't have any 'mirror guts' in it," you say, a hint of cheekiness in your tone. dongmin doesn't know what it is about it but it makes him blush, regardless.

"yeah. that sounds good," he says dreamily, trying hard to compose himself once more when you flash him a questioning look.

you work carefully on his arm, making sure to give a tiny little stress ball to dongmin to use when you descend upon his wound with some antibacterial medicine and rubbing alcohol on a cotton ball.

"so, uh, you look pretty young for a doctor...?" dongmin says, trying very hard to focus his attention on you instead of the stinging pain that came with every touch of the cotton ball on his wound. the more he looked at you, the more he began to wonder if he'd seen you somewhere before.

dongmin wasn't the superstitious type, and didn't exactly believe in 'love at first sight', but no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't place you anywhere in his memory.

"that might be because 'm not a doctor," you say somewhat distractedly. "i'm a nursing student."

"oh. oh! you're a nursing student?" he asks. student. that means that you were either his age or just a few years older than him. and it also probably meant that you were a student at a university near by - maybe his?

"yep. a second year. although, don't worry, i've completed all of my first aid clinicals last year itself," you explain, leaning back in satisfaction when you finish cleaning up the wound.

"my school has a pretty famous nursing program, you know. maybe you've heard of yonsei's nursing program?" dongmin asks, eyes shining with hope.

it's only then that you look up at dongmin with an excited look in your eyes, turning to throw away the used cotton balls.

"i go to yonsei as well! i'm just starting my second year. it's a little strange because the nursing program runs through the summer, which is why i'm working clinicals right now. i'm almost done though, so i'll be switching into a field i'm more interested in," you say and dongmin swears he hears wedding bells in his mind. beautiful, kind, intelligent, and the same age as him? it was like god was basically handing his soulmate to him on a platter. maybe love at first sight was real after all.

"me too! well, i'm not a nursing major, but i'm a second year electrical engineering major," dongmin says, watching you turn back towards him with a clipboard.

"mhm, well, i've gotta tell you to be careful for the next week or so. no heavy lifting, sports, and definitely no cutting things. we don't want to make the wound worse, now do we?" you say chidingly, scribbling instructions on the clipboard of how to clean the wound with rubbing alcohol and how many pills of ibuprofen to take per day.

"of course," dongmin says half-heartedly. as much as dongmin hated the feeling of pain, the was the only way that he could think of to get to see you again was to somehow hurt himself again.

"how about you come back in a week to just make sure that it closed up well? make sure it didn't get infected or anything?" you ask, handing him the sheet of paper.

god was real.

dongmin swore he was going to go to church and donate at least 10,000 won for the blessing after blessing he was receiving today.

"oh sure," he says, a mischievous thought popping into his head. "but is it ok if i find you on campus? i have a lot of labs over the next week and i can't miss them if i can't even participate in them, so i can at least get the information. i won't really have time to stop by the hospital," dongmin says carefully, watching your expression to ensure that it wasn't changing with every word that escaped your lips.

technically, it wasn't a lie. dongmin did have a lot of labs next week but that's definitely not why he wouldn't have time to stop by the hospital.

"i don't see why not. i don't need any sterile instruments to just check quickly, so that shouldn't be an issue," you say slowly, nodding to yourself as you look around the little station to make sure you wouldn't need any of the equipment.

"perfect," dongmin says, shuffling out of the bed that he was sitting in to leave before turning around nonchalantly. "do you think i could get your number? so i know where to find you?"

you look up at him, and dongmin tries his best to seem sincere and genuine rather than as calculating as he felt, trying every tactic possible to see you again.

"yeah. yeah, here let me type it into your phone."

he hands his phone over to you, and it takes every single fiber of his being to keep himself from looking excited about any part of this transaction. you were already suspicious enough of him; you definitely didn't need more reasons to add to the list.

you're frowning slightly when you hand the phone back to him so dongmin pockets it without a second thought, to prove that he wasn't trying to be weird.

"thank you so much again." dongmin waves as he leaves, flashing the award-winning smile that he usually reserves for aunties and restaurant owners for free sides. oh, and for his fans.

you don't blush and trip over yourself when he does like his fans do - although you offer him a soft smile in return.

although, dongmin muses, i guess it would be weird if a nurse who met me for the first time would be anything like a college basketball star's fan though. maybe.

he shakes his head, opening the door to the hospital, looking down at his arm wrapped in gauze. yeah. there was no way that dongmin was taking a break from basketball. season started in less than three weeks and as yonsei's point guard, he had no choice but to just power through the injury.

it might work out in his favor after all. at least it would give him more chances to see you.

+++

turns out, the universe gives him a chance less than two days after he sees you for the first time. and in any other case, dongmin would be incredibly excited to see you again. he'd probably be ready, waiting with freshly showered hair and clean clothes and nice smelling cologne.

instead, when he sees you again, he's wearing raggedy shorts, a stained shirt, and holding a basketball that he definitely should not be holding.

dongmin knew he was fucked the moment you walked in through the double doors that opened up to the indoor basketball court of yonsei, light spilling in from the outdoors, along with the chatter and excitement of students returning to university.

you walk in wearing white, along with six other people dressed similarly, the basketball team's physician (dr. moon taeil) at the head of them all. dongmin hopes that you don't recognize him - or at least don't see him actively playing but of course, you manage to turn your head to see dongmin throw the ball out of his hands in a random direction in panic.

the ball, then of course, managed to fall neatly through the hoop, as though dongmin had intentionally thrown it there, causing him to want to die on the spot.

so he couldn't do that during a game with korea university, but now that he was doing everything in his power to keep you from seeing him play basketball, now he manages to throw it in the one place it shouldn't go.

your eyes narrow when dongmin turns to face you, your gaze falling to his (poorly) wrapped forearm. he offers you a trembling grin, which slowly turns into a frown when you look away, shaking your head as you start talking to the girl next to you.

at least you wouldn't say anything to coach about how he wasn't supposed to be playing right now, dongmin thinks to himself. even if i've effectively ruined my chances of her ever believing me about anything ever again. uh. not that i've had more than one conversation with her. or might have more in the future.

dongmin shivers, jogging over to where the basketball had fallen to pick it up and return to his place at the three-point line and continue shooting practice.

he returns to where he's supposed to be practicing, so that his back is facing the group of people who'd entered - namely, you.

"i forgot coach mentioned that we've got new on-site medical staff," dongmin mutters to himself, dribbling the ball before lining up his shot. "i didn't know that she'd be a part of that though - she can't be the sporty type if she didn't recognize me from the hospital."

dongmin is so lost in his thoughts that he doesn't even feel the dark presence looming over him until the ball is released from his hand.

"HAN DONGMIN!" someone yells, right next to his ear, and dongmin scrambles to attention, wincing when the basketball bounces off the rim and into the cart of basketballs he was practicing with with a resounding clang!

he turns slowly, eyes closed, as if that would make you go away.

"i cannot believe that i bandaged you up so carefully just for you to start playing again! how could you be so careless? do you not want to be able to play during the season? you're yonsei's ace and you're being this irresponsible!" you're heaving by the end of your rant and dongmin blinks, trying to come up with a response.

you definitely didn't know him well enough to yell at him like this - much less in front of all of his teammates - but for some reason, that's not what stuck out to dongmin.

(much to his chagrin, you being angry was hot. like really hot. especially since he'd thought you'd be the soft and cozy type, not the impulsive and quick to anger type. he really liked this side of you.)

"you know who i am?" he asks slowly.

"OF COURSE I KNOW WHO YOU ARE! OH, YOU ARE GETTING ON MY NERVES. YOU ASS, I DIDN'T BANDAGE YOU UP THAT NEATLY FOR YOU TO BE WALKING AROUND SHOOTING THREES!"

you're yelling at him, and for some reason, dongmin has never wanted to kiss someone more in his life. he'd never though he'd be this attracted to someone that he's just met yelling at him, much less in front of his entire team and her own entire team. but for some reason, as dongmin looks at you waving your hands all crazy and annoyed, all he can think about it how much he likes you.

it wasn't just physical. of course, he thought you were beautiful - possibly the most beautiful person he'd ever seen in his life and he would die on that hill - but it was more than that. it was as though he'd genuinely fallen in love at first sight.

you could tell him that you were a serial killer and at this point, dongmin would just admire your bloodlust.

"uh. dongmin?" coach jung says behind him, hands crossed over his chest. "do you guys need a moment to step out and come back?"

even coach jung seems a little bit intimidated by your livid state of being and dongmin has to cough to cover up his life.

"no coach. we're done here," you say, turning dramatically on your heel to turn back to your friends. but dongmin moves quicker than even his own mind can process what happens.

before he can think, his hand is wrapped around your wrist, spinning you closer to him, almost as if the two of you were ballroom dancing.

you look up at him, shocked, but dongmin is slow to let go of your wrist, not wanting to lose contact with you.

"no, we need just a moment," dongmin says, his eyes never leaving your own. it's clear that you neither expected this nor were used to this kind of behavior from anyone and before the fight that's building inside of you bubbles out, dongmin tilts his head toward the door that leads to a hallway extending to the equipment room, practically begging you with his eyes.

you aqcuiesce - or at least, dongmin thinks you do - from the way that your shoulder melt just the slightest and you let him pull you into the hallway.

"what?" you snap the second the door shuts behind the two of you. "okay, maybe i didn't let on that i knew you from our encounter, but that's irrelevant. i didn't need to tell you that i knew you. and besides, as your healthcare provider, it would have been extremely irresponsible on my end for me to let slip that i'm a fan - or that i know you personally at all."

dongmin can't help but let a small smile slip. "personally? we know each other personally?"

you fluster in that moment, looking anywhere but at dongmin, bringing a large smile to his face. he'd never thought that the feisty, quick to temper and quick to lose it, loud type was his type but he was starting to enjoy it very much.

"alright, well i know you personally enough, alright?" you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. "we've met before."

now it's dongmin's turn to look flustered, as he wracks his brain, trying to come up when or where the two of you have met before. he wasn't the one-night-stand type, so that couldn't be it. he also didn't have an insane amount of friends outside of the basketball team and donghyun's friends, so that wasn't it either.

"i'm really sorry - and i'm definitely trying to hit on you, just not right now - but i don't remember. i'd definitely remember someone like you," dongmin says, and he's well aware of the fact that his tone does not sound any level of displeased, and rather dreamy.

you roll your eyes, looking down at the ground. "we kissed once. twice actually. but um. that's not my point."

you clear your throat, as if you hadn't just dropped the biggest bomb of the century on dongmin, shaking your head. "why the hell are you playing basketball on an injured arm anyway? i specifically said no sports!"

dongmin raises an eyebrow. "you say you're my fan and yet you're still asking me why i'm playing when we have our first game in a week. and hold on. i'm not letting go of that first part; we've kissed? twice?"

you shrug, but it's clear that you don't think of it as nonchalantly as you're trying to make it sound when you speak. "yeah. in freshman year. once in spring semester and then once in fall. it's not a big deal. to you at least. clearly you kiss a lot of girls, if you don't even remember us kissing at all."

"now that's not fair," dongmin pouts, but he's well aware that he's not conveying this well at all. suddenly, a flash of a girl wearing a red dress, looking up at him with big eyes and a pouty lips crosses his mind.

good god. were - were you dongmin's mystery girl?

+++

"what do you mean dongmin finally found his mystery girl? the one he's been crushing on for a full year?" myung jaehyun says incredulously, instantly pulling out his phone to look you up on instagram.

dongmin sits in the middle of his friends, all sitting at the same table as they were supposed to be eating lunch, his head resting in his hands.

"you mean the one that he swore was the love of his life? god, he wouldn't shut up about that for at least six months," lee sanghyuk says, shoveling noodles in his mouth.

"try a year," donghyun groans, rubbing his forehead in pain. "do you remember the state of this kid when he woke up the next day?"

"good god, it was horrible. all he could say for a full week was that he wanted to jump out of the window because he'd lost her number and that he was never going to find true love because he couldn't remember her name, number, or even what she looked like," sanghyuck adds.

park sungho, the newest addition to their friend group, blinks, looking at dongmin, who's head is still in his hands.

"you were down bad, man," he muses and jaehyun on the side of him snorts.

"down bad doesn't even begin to describe it. it got to the point where we had 'girl in the red dress' and 'true love' jars because he would talk about her." jaehyun sighed, looking at dongmin pointedly. "he'd put enough money that we'd bought alc for the rest of freshman year. just in spring semester."

"that's what you get for trying to prove that you could drink a 4lokos without getting shitfaced," donghyun says, nose crinkling as he recalled the hours he had to spend making sure that dongmin wasn't going to die by choking on his own spit. "and he went and did it twice. it took us months to get to the point where we could invite this guy anywhere so as long as he swore not to bring her up again."

dongmin looks up, almost excitedly. "do you think that if i drink another 4lokos, we'll kiss at another party?"

sungho leans over, smacking him upside the head. "you're so fucking dumb. and i can tell just by these stories. you're not allowed to drink until season's over, idiot. and she's on your medical team. why don't you start by making a good impression while you're not so drunk you're going to start insisting that spongebob is hydrophobic."

("you were there when that happened?")

("you idiot, you thought i was spongebob. you kept throwing my drinks away because you thought i was going to disappear into them if i drank them. which makes no sense because that's not what hydrophobic means.")

("oh. sorry man.")

"yeah. just go to the med clinic tomorrow, apologize to her, and bring her flowers or something. women eat that shit up!" sanghyuk says with a mouthful of noodles and jaehyun nods, pointing his chopsticks at him excitedly.

"they do! my girlfriend always feels better with food and flowers," he says, cheeks stuffed to the brim with carbonara.

dongmin's mind races with all of the implications of doing so, but every single one of his thoughts fade away in light of the fact that he could redeem himself in your eyes. he slams his hands down on the table, swinging his legs over the bench to run to the nearest flower shop.

"i'll be back before practice!" dongmin calls out over his shoulder, waving a quick goodbye as he sprints towards the florists.

he makes it to the edge of the courtyard before he hears the yelling of his friends behind him, turning to see them waving at him (and waving some very rude fingers at him).

"YOU FORGOT YOUR WALLET, YOU IDIOT!"

+++

dongmin's friends were useless. absolutely useless.

he'd went and bought the prettiest bouquet of flowers he could find, a nice meal from his favorite bento place, and had even bought three different types of ice cream bars because he didn't know which one you'd like.

he'd walked right into the medical clinic office, his apology gifts all in hand, ready to apologize to you, redeem his honor, and become your own true love.

the last part probably wasn't going to work anyway, but the first two should've been foolproof.

instead, he manages to prove that he was a fool.

as it turns out, he wasn't the only person who thought that the flowers were beautiful; dongmin had managed to bring the queen bee as a secret surprise in the bouquet, which meant that the rest of her hive was NOT very happy that he'd committed royal kidnap, as far as the bees were concerned.

"HAN DONGMIN WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU!" you yell from underneath your desk, where you were hiding from the sudden swarm of bees that had followed dongmin in.

he doesn't respond, too busy opening the window to drop the flowers out of, hesitating when he sees the number of people that were lounging around the courtyard that the medical office looked out of.

dongmin lines up the bouquet, sending a prayer to god (any one that would listen) as he shoots the best three he's ever shot in his life, so that the bouquet (and all of the bees that accompanied it) landed far away enough from people to prevent them from getting hurt.

of course, a few brave souls had stayed behind to exact revenge for their queen on dongmin, resulting in upwards of five bee stings, before dongmin finally evaded the great medical bee disaster once and for all.

he turns sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

"i don't suppose i could find medical care in this clinic, could i?" he says, and he's well aware of the fact that he's flushed bright red, as he always seems to when he's made a fool of himself.

thankfully, there are only four or five people, including you, in the office to witness this disaster - although, dongmin can see the girl you were talking to yesterday surpressing a smile.

"yeah, of course you could. but we're all headed on break so unfortunately, y/n is the only person who's gonna be able to give you medical care. you know, since you've already brought lunch for her," your friend says with a knowing grin. she ushers the rest of the medical staff out of the office, closing the door behind her with a telltale click.

"you can come out from under the desk now," dongmin says, and despite the situation, he finds it adorable that in the case of a bee swarm, your first instinct had been to hide underneath a desk.

"i was going to," you grumble, slinking out from your hiding spot and dusting off invisible dust from your pants. "what were you thinking, bringing flowers with bees in them?"

dongmin blushes, tilting his head as he tries to look anywhere but where you were. "i wanted to apologize to you. in my defense, i kinda always thought bees were made up. i mean, they're so fat! there's no way they should be able to fly. that directly violates like every law of aviation in the world."

your eyebrow quirks upward as you look at the ice cream and lunch he had set down on your desk in his bee-induced panic. "i can't believe you're quoting the bee movie at me right now."

"i can't believe you know i'm quoting the bee movie. i should've known the love of my life was an internet connoiseur," dongmin says with a sigh, examining the bee stings on his arm. how did these bees even manage to crawl underneath the sleeves of his shirt?

"excuse me?" you bark, hands on your hips. "did you just call me the love of your life? when you couldn't even remember who i was like yesterday?"

"okay, wait. you don't understand. first, i need you to help me out by getting some ointment on these stings because they're starting to burn and i don't know if that's so normal. and then, i'll explain everything, trust me."

you reluctantly reach back into a cabinet that reads 'insect stings' and grab the kit for bee stings, pulling a cream out of it, beckoning dongmin to come closer so that you could treat it.

"do you remember what happened that night? or those two nights, i guess?" you ask softly, eyes trained on dongmin's arm so that you don't have to look him in the eyes and he nods.

"i remember. well, as much as i can, anyway. i was blackout drunk both times. and from what i remember, you weren't exactly sober either, so i don't know how you remember me but trust me, whatever you think about me is not true. i was - i was so down bad that my friends had to make a 'no y/n' jar!" dongmin yelps the last part when your hand on his arm presses a little too hard.

"i'm sorry! sorry!" you gasp, immediately leaning over to blow cool air on the place you'd accidentally put too much pressure. "what do you mean by a no 'no y/n' jar though? i thought you didn't remember my name."

"i didn't! and it killed me! i don't remember exactly what happened those nights but i remember how much i liked you. i remember thinking that i'd never meet a girl like you in my life. it still frustrates me that i lost your number - although, i do remember the part where you smacked me over the head the second time that we met. i think i suffered permanent brain damage from that.

"but i remember glimpses of that night. like that red dress you were wearing and how much you were rambling about stars. you were giving me an in-depth explanation about how black holes work and something about how rockets look like they're stuck in time in black holes. not the point. but the point is that i genuinely fell in love with you that first night we met.

"i've got this horrid habit though, when i get drunk - i become either super scared of water, or super infatuated with it. it's honestly a coin-toss. so imagine my feeling the next morning when i wake up with a dissolved piece of paper in my pocket that's supposed to have your number on it, semi-wet clothes, and a raging migraine.

"i thought i met the love of my life and i couldn't even remember her name, number, or even her face. it drove me and my friends absolutely nuts. me because i didn't know how to find you when i couldn't remember anything. my friends went insane because i would talk about you so much that they bought me those swear jars for every time i mentioned you.

"of course, i didn't know your name so you were just 'the love of my life' or 'girl in the red dress' but i think i dumped at least 300,000 won in those jars by the end of the semester. and then as if the universe was out to make my life living hell, we met again and i was shitfaced again. i swore to never touch a 4lokos after that, if that's any level of redemption.

"anyway. i brought you flowers and all this stuff because i wanted to tell you that - that i've liked you for a lot longer than even i've known! i remember most of the conversations that we had, even if i couldn't remember exactly who you were. when i saw you at the hospital, i genuinely thought i was falling in love at first sight. but i guess, that's kinda not true. cause that would be my third time falling in love at first sight."

"why, though? three times? i mean, i don't think i'm ugly or anything but three times? yeah, i mean i guess i kinda also had a thing for you after those two nights. god. i wish i remembered what we talked about for us to get this attached," you say, mumbling the last part. dongmin turns to you somewhat confused, watching you as you open up the bento box he'd bought you.

"you don't remember what we talked about? besides the black holes and stuff?"

"nope. but i've also got a horrible reputation amongst my friends for how much i talked about you. the worst part is that i remembered you but not what we talked about. it was so stupid because no one believed me that han dongmin, yonsei's point guard was the guy i'd had my heart for the past year." you instinctively smile the moment you take a bite of the food and even though it's so small, dongmin's heart swells with pride.

"why didn't you ever come up to me? i mean, this whole year of pining could've been avoided if you'd talked to me," dongmin says, accepting the ice cream bar you handed him. how the hell did you know that was his favorite ice cream?

"i gave you my number once, and i kissed you twice. i figured you were just ghosting me at some point if you weren't going to reach out to me. and besides, nursing really picked up right after basketball season so...i kinda just ended up torturing my friends for the past year," you say, somewhat sheepishly, but dongmin is barely even listening anymore.

after all, how many people can say that they fell in love at first sight with the same person three times?

"well. we're here now. will you go out with me? i promise i won't even touch a 4lokos!"

"deal. as long as you promise to tell me everything we talked about that night. i still can't tell why i fell so hard for you that i chased you down a basketball court in front of your whole team."

"my stellar looks? my killer smile? my stupidly handsome personality? my superb basketball skills?"

"try your stupid attraction to water molecules."

"i have a feeling i shouldn't have told you about that."

+++

freshman year, spring semester.

"really? you've never fallen in love before?" you ask incredulously. you and dongmin are sitting on the balcony of some random friend who decided to throw a party, feet dangling over the edges in between the bars.

"nah. i don't think so," dongmin says, leaning backwards on his palms. "i don't think i've ever met someone who's ever made me feel like my entire heart is their's to do whatever they want to do with."

"then let's play this game," you say, clumsily pulling out your phone. "that one thing on new york times, where you fall in love with someone within 36 questions."

"why? you want me to fall in love with you?" dongmin says, leaning over with a cheeky smile. you push him playfully, focused on trying to pull up the questions list.

"you'd do that whether i told you to or not," you fire back. "and besides, i think i'm a fantastic kisser. so you're probably already in love."

"you're right," dongmin says with a sigh. "i think i am."

freshman year, fall semester.

"question 36. i can't believe we never finished all the questions last time," you say. this time the two of you are sitting so close, dongmin can still taste the watermelon chapstick you're wearing. at this point though, dongmin might as well be the one wearing it.

"to be fair, last time i think we were otherwise preoccupied."

"get your mind out of the gutter!"

"i was talking about how many times you kept getting distracted by the dog."

"anyway. we're on question 36; are you in love with me yet?"

"i should be asking you that. i've been in love."

"han dongmin! i thought you weren't the superstitious type?"

"i'll be whatever you want me to be."

[haruka-norikoyo]

Chifuyu Matsuno x reader

Treating him while injured. Not the most original idea, but I really wanted to write for him and review my first aid knowledge lol

TW: mentions of blood and injury, and profanities

~~~~~~~~~~~

You nearly get a heart attack opening your door in the middle of the night to see Chifuyu’s bloody visage at your porch. It’s not the first time he’s come to you after a fight but holy hell does he look ready to keel over right now.

“(Y/n) it’s me—”

“Fucking shit dude…” you mutter, grabbing his arm to pull him inside, ignoring the pained yelp that escapes his mouth. Oops. You must’ve grabbed a wound.

You sit him down on a stool in the kitchen. “Seriously, you look like the walking dead,” you say flatly, leaving to sort through the cupboards for medical supplies. The boy only grins in return, much to your chagrin. You return with the supplies, scowling at all the blood dripping down his face. “Don’t make that face, it’s not as bad as it looks…”

“I’d hit you for being so dismissive if you weren’t already so injured,” you say, raising your arm to prove your point.

He chuckles. “Why you gotta be violent?”

You don’t dignify him with a response. Instead, you focus on examining his wounds. The blood on his face makes it hard to see where he’s hurt. You know that cuts along the forehead are dramatic, though, so you don’t worry too much. What’s concerning is his arm. It looks a little too bent than it should. You hope it’s just your imagination.

Firstly, you clean his wounds. “Make sure to wash these properly twice a day. You still have the soap I gave you?” For now, you just dab a damp cloth you sterilized over his face.

“Yeah, that mild soap or something, right?”

“Uh huh,” you set the bloody cloth into the sink, serializing a new one. His face is now mostly cleared of blood. Though, his wound on the left of his forehead remains bleeding, so you take out a gauze pad. “Keep this over your forehead while I tend to your other wounds.”

Chifuyu obliges, raising his less beat up arm to hold the gauze. He watches you, as you apply ointment over the cuts on his face. Its coolness soothes his skin. With how close you are, he notices the way your brows crease, how you purse your lip as you try to remember what you were taught about first aid, and how you’re so focused on your task that you don’t see the way his eyes dilate. “You’re scary when you get like this.” After all, he’s sure his heart isn’t meant to be beating so fast.

You tear your eyes away from his wounds, deadpanning. “Really? I’m scary but you fight middle schoolers on steroids?”

He shrugs, “Eh, I don’t think they have access to steroids…”

“That’s more terrifying to know that they just naturally look thirty as middle schoolers,” you mutter. You decide to leave the cuts on his face alone for now, more concerned about his arm. You point at it. “That. Did you break it?”

Chifuyu smiles wryly, looking away. “Mm… I guess I might’ve heard a crunch…” He sneaks a glance at you, who stares at him, unimpressed. “Don’t glare at me…”

You sigh. After dealing with his busted knuckles, you take out a sling bandaid. “Are you able to raise it over your chest? Don’t push yourself, though.”

“I think so,” he winces. Pain shoots through his arm as he bends it, but nothing too unbearable. Before long, he’s able to rest it properly in the sling. “Neat. You should open your own clinic when you’re older.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s not too difficult if you remember the steps. I can teach you sometime.”

Chifuyu hums, looking up in thought. “Meh, I’d rather swing by your clinic.”

“Don’t tell me you still plan on getting injured in fights even when we’re adults,” you cross your arms, grimacing. Really, this boy will be the death of you.

He looks at your expression, leaning back against the counter top behind him. “Well, maybe not fights. I mean, if I were to own a pet store beside your clinic then surely I’d need help with a couple scratches or animal bites, right?”

You blink at him. Seeing the blush tinting his cheeks at his imagination of the future, you can’t help but chuckle. “Where did you get that I’d be owning a clinic?”

“Cause you’re good at taking care of me, duh?” “I thought you wanted to be a pilot?”

Chifuyu shrugs. “I can do both. That way I get to come to your clinic everyday.

You laugh again, shaking your head. “I should start charging you.”

“Hey, no. I don’t have enough money for that. You really are gonna charge me when I’m injured?”

“That’s how hospitals work.”

“T-True…” “My first aid license isn’t free, you know,” you grin at the increasing panic in his face. “Huh?! It’s like fifty dollars per year..!” He hovers his hand in front of you when he realizes normal reasoning won’t work. “Think about it. You may be taking classes in first aid, but you said you only do hands on stuff every now and then, right? Thanks to me, you get to practice.”

“Hm,” you you tap your chin as you pretend to consider it. “I suppose this all is very helpful…”

“Right?”

You flash him a thumbs up, “Alright, then. Keep getting beat up.”

“You heartless little…” Chifuyu’s eye twitches as he stares at you. But he eventually shrugs, turning away dramatically. “Oh well, I’ll do it. For you…”

“Eugh,” you roll your eyes, responding with a mock gag. “Yeah yeah, lemme see if your forehead stopped bleeding.”

Chifuyu gets rid of the gauze, allowing you to examine it. “Hm… yeah, I think I should be able to apply ointment now,” you do so, finishing it up by taping a fresh gauze over it. “There we go. Make sure not to put alcohol on it. It’ll make it worse.”

He nods, flashing you a dorky grin and salute. “You got it doc.”

You look over his bruises and areas beginning to swell, heading over to the freezer for ice. “Use both an icepack and warm compress for your sprains an bruises. You see, swelling helps speed up healing. That’s why the body does it.”

“Huh, you learned that in your first aid classes?” he hums, catching the icepack you toss his way. “How come we ice it down then?”

“Too much swelling is bad. So you gotta alternate warm and cold for a speedy recovery.” You’re already done with patching him up, so you start tidying your medical supplies. “Mhm…” he nods, icing down his bruises. It’s difficult to do for some areas. “It’s going to be a pain in the ass to fight with only one arm.”

He realizes he messed up when you set the first aid kit down with a thud. Before he knew it, you’re up at his face with your hand gripping his collar. “You are not fighting with a broken arm.”

“Okay okay..!” he raises his free arm. “Calm down.”

“I’m calm,” you say, releasing your grip and letting your arm fall to your side. “I’m asking Baji-san to make sure you won’t fight until you’re recovered.”

Chifuyu smiles wryly, “Come on, have you no faith in me? No need to go that far…” You stare at him, and he knows exactly which incident you’re on about. “That was one time.”

“One time that I caught you… and one time too many.”

He sets the icepack on his lap and scratches the back of his head. “It couldn’t be helped. The guys were in a pickle.”

The two of you sit in awkward silence until you vent out a sigh.

“I know you have your responsibilities as the division vice captain or whatever your title is in Toman… and I’m not expecting you to stop fighting altogether. That would be selfish of me. But…” you look at him. “…could you at least… wait until your arm heals?”

Chifuyu’s heart aches at the hesitance in your tone, as if you’re afraid of crossing the line. Little did you know that he’d gladly rewrite that line for you.

He can’t bring himself to continue acting nonchalant. Not with how you’re looking at him right now. “Yeah… I’ll wait until my arm heals. I promise,” he offers you a smile that he hopes conveys his sincerity. “You don’t have to worry, okay?”

You scrutinize him a moment longer. “Okay.” He sighs in relief, but his breath hitches when you suddenly wrap your arms around him.

“Thank you, Chifuyu.” He remains still. You’ll make his heart explode someday before any injury kills him, he knows it. Maybe you’ll hear his brain screaming telepathically if he focuses enough. Somehow, he manages to raise his uninjured arm to your head, patting your hair down. “I should be the one saying that.”

“Say it then. Don’t be shy.”

Chifuyu smiles wryly. Of course you had a retort locked and loaded. He walked right into that one. He pauses, shifting his head so that his lips are against your ear with his hand still behind your head.

You shiver from his breath fanning against you, face heating up.

He smiles as he notes this. With his voice low against your ear, he whispers. “Thank you for always taking care of me, (y/n).”

[backtothefanfiction]

Nothing Hits Quite Like That First Kiss | Joel Miller x Reader Imagine

Summary: Tensions are about to burst and it’s all because of a splinter.

Word Count: 842

Warnings: some tension, some teasing, a little bit of heavy petting, hurt comfort

A/N: Just a quick little Joel blurb. Realised I hadn’t really given P some proper love lately over here so here’s just a little Joel piece. I haven’t written for Joel before but I hope you like. Also, apologies for the cock block, I could have written smut but it’s late and I wanted to leave something to the imagination.

“Ow, ow, ow!” You sneered.

“Would you just hold still. I’ve almost got it.” He chastised you as he squeezed at the splinter, trying to push it back towards the surface.

“Ouch Joel that hurts!”

“Well if you just held still.”

“I know, let me put a splinter in your finger and see if you like it.” You hissed. “Ouch!”

With one quick pull Joel had yanked the tiny piece of wood out of your finger. You began to whine but he quickly popped your finger into his mouth, sucking on it slightly drawing blood to make sure he’d got all of the splinter and dirt out. Your eyes quickly blew wide in shock before a sudden feeling of wetness between your legs had you looking away in an attempt to hide your sudden arousal.

“I saw that.” He muttered as he dropped your hand and you shifted in your seat on top of the old raggedy kitchen counter sheepishly, your hand quickly tucking under your thighs as he began to step away from you. “Uh uh.” He said chastising you again. He quickly rummaged in a small first aid kit for a wipe and a bandaid before doubling back to you, his hand outstretched for yours.

You rolled your eyes as you pulled your hand back out from under your leg, holding it out to him. Your lips pursed as he wiped the alcohol wipe over the finger. Once your finger had dried, you then watched him intensely as he wrapped the bandaid around your finger.

“There you go, all better.” He said before letting your hand fall and going to place the rubbish in a bin in the corner of the kitchen. “Such a good girl.” He teased as he looked back up at you.

You shook your head as you hopped down off the counter, irritated with how his words incited a physical reaction in you. He had become insufferable. Ever since he first realised you had a little crush on him he had been playing up to it like mad and it was driving you crazy, especially seeing as he wasn’t actually gonna do anything about it.

“You know what Joel, fuck you.” You said as you stormed passed him, your shoulder hitting his as you went.

“Oh come on honey, it was a joke. A JOKE!” He repeated himself.

“Well I don’t find it funny!” You said back to him.

“Honey, honey, please.” He said, trying to reason with you. You had been living with each other at the QZ for a couple months now, his was the only place with a spare room when you arrived. He hadn’t been too happy with being told he had to share the place, but ever since Tommy had left he had to admit shit had gone downhill for him, He hadn’t been sleeping, his mind spiraling and then there was you, like a breath of fresh air.

“What? What Joel? What could you possibly have to say? I get it, I do. It’s funny to you. You think it’s cabin fever or a younger girl’s infatuation like a teenager crushing on her teacher and MAYBE-“ you said stressing the syllables of the word, “but I can’t help it! And it certainly doesn’t help when you make jokes about it okay or tease me just because it amuses you. I’m sorry Joel, okay? I’m so-“

His long strides brought him across the room before you could even process it, his hands flying up to either side of your face as he pulled your lips to his, smashing them forcefully together. You quickly sighed against him, the rest of your words and irritation being neutralized by his soft touch.

When he pulled himself back to gage your reaction your face was a look of shock.

“You just kissed me.” Your words came out breathless.

“Yeah.” He said gruffly, quietly agreeing.

You searched his eyes before leaning back in for more, this time your lips more hungry as you closed your eyes, inhaling deeply through your nose as you tried to take all of him in, his scent dizzying. He tilted your jaw open wider, his tongue reaching out to taste you. Your breaths grew shallow as you tried to keep up with his own hunger, his arms snaking around you, lifting your body from the floor. Your arms wrapped around his neck as your legs wrapped themselves tightly around his waist as he carried you to his bedroom.

He laid you back down on the old raggedy covers as he came to sit himself between your legs, his arms quickly fighting to rid himself of his flannel, tossing it across the room as his lips continued their onslaught on your own.

“Joel.” You moaned against his lips, your hands reaching up for either side of his face.

“It’s okay honey.” He said as his hand reached for your own, placing the finger with the band aid to his lips, giving it a little kiss, “I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

[crystlizabeth]

At Last..

Paring: Joel Miller x Blackfem!reader

Summary: Joel has a crush on Jackson’s witch doctor a woman whose gift is making medicine. During a clean-up of Joel’s wounds, he gets the courage to ask her on a date.

Fluff, use of pet names, and curssing.

The earthy aroma hit Joel as he walked in the small medical shop, the fresh smell of herbs was welcoming. Joel often found himself here almost every day but not for medicine or a doctor. But for her, Jackson’s God give gift a medicine specialist, she was a welcoming woman who was very loved. Joel found himself feeling young again when he met her, he swooned over her. Her smile made his heart skip a beat, the way she looked up at him through her lashes could kill him truly. Even with her friendly aura, she was a strong managed woman, Joel had been on plenty of runs with her for certain herbs and supplies for her work.

As he stood in the doorway he could see over the counter, her with a baby and his mother. His mother held the little boy close he seemed to have an allergic reaction to something and he was in discomfort. She had a needle in her hand that held a clear liquid.

“I know baby you're in pain its gonna be okay..” her voice was gentle and soothing. The baby let out a cry as she stuck the needleI his thigh feeding his body an antidote. She threw the needle away quickly putting a bandaid on the infants thigh.

“See all better, look honey I'm all done.” her voice brightened in a way to make him feel better her hand softly creased the little boy's face. She looks up at his mom letting her know he's got to go, the other woman thanked her again taking her child and walking past Joel.

The doctor's eyes meet Joels, her face displaying a smile her eyes leaving his seeing the bloody spot on his shirt “Christ what did you do this time Miller...” she spoke her voice teasing but all out worried.

“Ran into a sharp piece of wood,” he stated simply he couldn't help but feel a little stupid because it was a branch that got him. She let out a laugh watching the man shake his head at his own thought.

“Alright then common over cowboy.” she said inviting him behind the counter to sit on a stool while she grabbed stuff to patch him up.

She stopped in front of him her eyes met his she looked at his shirt then back at him. He raised a brow not knowing what she was doing, was she checking him out?

She sighed “Oh my God,I need you to take your shirt off so I can get to your wound.”

“Oh!” he realized, she laughed at the man. As he quickly pulled it over his head.

Joel's muscles flex as the shirt came other his head the leg the shirt stay on his arms but it was off his body. And damn did he look good for a man his age her eyes wonders for too long but not long enough for him to notice she thinks. Snapping out of her thought she began to clean the wound. Dried blood covered the towel she was using; it was a deep cut but it didn't need stitches.

“How has your day been?” he asked his southern accent picking at the word ‘your’.

“It's been good, that lil’ baby that came in had a really bad reaction to avocado, luckily it's not a common thing so it will be easy to stay away from. But other than having to stab an infant with a needle it's been a good, all-out steady day.” she explained to him her eyes focused on his cut. She was gentle with her movements careful not to hurt him.

A small smile pulled at Joel's lips watching her concentrate she was so gentle with him. She finished cleaning properly she grabbed a jar a spread medicine to help the scar tissue build back quickly, she took some on her fingers putting it over the wound.

Joel winced at the sensation “Yeah it's gonna burn for a second but it's gonna do its job.” she spoke suddenly noticing him slightly move.

His eyes focused on her as she laid the bandage on his chest. Her hands so gentle gratefully moving along in chest. She was undeniably Gorgeous, her melanin skin that shined from the sunlight from the open windows, her fluffed curls that laid around her face even though her hair was tied back a bandana on the top of her head like a headband, her beautiful smile that could make anyones day better.

God did he want her. He was so in love but wasn’t sure for what she felt, yes she played along with his flirting but he never could tell if there was something there. Maybe he was just clueless, because how could she look at him like that he never knew how to describe it but it made his heart melt.

“Joel..?” She asked, the older man snapeed out of his hazed thought looking at her.

“Yes? Sorry i just zoned out apologies sweetheart…” he said rubbing the back of his neck.

She smiled lightly tilting her head “well you’re all done now hun you can put your shirt on now.” She told him.

“Well if you insist..” he said, a small laugh came from the woman in front of him. Wow was all he could think there she went again making his stomach flutter nervously.

Joel took a deep breath while blowing out you could hear a small chuckle. He looked up at her watched as she began you cleaned up.

“What are you doing tonight..?” He asked his voice hesitant.

She turned around looking at the man “Nothing really going home to my cat thats about it really..” she spoke hugging the tray close to her body as she leaned on the counter.

“Oh, well.. would you happen to be interested in dinner? The bar is having a little party dinner dance you know.” He said his fingers playing with one another slightly being picked at a nervous habit you could say yet his eyes looked at her awaiting for her answer.

She smiled her head tilted slightly scanning the nervous gent in front of her “Are you asking me on a date Mr. Miller..?” She questioned her tone teasing.

He sat up straighter nodding “Yes Ma’am, I am.”

“Well i would Love too.”

“Really? Amazing, would 5:30 work i mean it 4 now so it just really depends when you off you could say.” Joel rambled and she shot up from the stool.

“Joel sweetie 5:30 sounds great ill have Maki come and finish up for the night.” She said reassuring the man. He nodded saying his goodbye for now and thanks.

As she got home she began to get ready, a date right? What would it hurt wearing that dress her neighbor made a while back for her for fun. It was a short summer dress it was loose and flowy, the sage color dress hugged under here breast the neckline in a u shape that landed on the out side of her collar bone it was slightly ruffled the sleeves where long and flow like a 70’s design, her cleavage could be seen due to the shape of the neckline but she didn’t mind it was flattering the dress looked damn good as-well.

“I’ll have to thank Kendra for this..” she mumbled to herself checking out the dress doing a spin in front of the mirror.

She stepped back grabbing her beat down cowboy boots finishing off the look just in time to hearing a knock on her apartment door. She walked over opening it to see joel and some flowers. He greeted her with a smile handing the flowers out to her a mixture of wild flowers like Wax Flower, chamomile, and forget-me-not from what you could make out at the moment. Joel was cleaned up a nice pair of wranglers that where held up by a buckled belt, a plain dark green button up and some squared shape cowboy boots toped off with a cowboy hat. Well hello Texas, its not like it wasn’t often to see gents in Jackson wear one but damn did it look good on him.

“Here come in, I wanna put these in a vase.” She spoke letting him in.

Joels eyes wandered around the apartment looking at all the plants some big some small. He loved it it was all her so nature like and truly welcoming. He looked back at her noticing how her hair was no longer pulled back like earlier but in it’s natural state with all the volume curls and frizz.

She finished up putting the flowers in a vase walking up to him “Im ready when you are cowboy.” She spoke flicking the hat he wore. He chuckled adjusting the hat following her out the door.

The two walked down the stress of Jackson the warm summer breeze hitting their faces as they followed the street’s lights to the bar. They both talked about how their life was before the out break, She explained she was an early graduate from high school and when to school for medicine. She also hinted she had a child of her own as well but Joel never pushed any further for he knew what it was like, to lose a child.

“I had a daughter..” Joel said his voice quiet. The woman looked over at him, she was interested but didn’t press for any more information, but Joel wanted her to feel comfortable speaking with him do he opened up it wasn’t easy for the man to tell her about his lost daughter. He just never explained how she died.

“She sounds lovely, It.. its hard to lose a child…” her voice spoke.

“My Son Elijah, he was 4 when the out break happened.. and he was one of the unfortunate ones.. He got infected.” She spoke her voice tender.

He reached out pulling her in a side hug as they walked her head rested against him ash he hugged him back taking in the warmth and comfort he offered to her. Pulling away linked her arm with his as they walked in the bar.

Walking in the bar it was lit up by old white Christmas lights, it was lively the sound of familiar music the stomping of shoes on the wooden floor as people dance.

Her and Joel walked up to Tommy and Maria greeting them at the bar.

“Y/n! Im glad you could make it!” Maria smiled at her opening her arms for a friendly hug.

The four of them continued to talk the night away Maria pulling Her away to join in the line dance of ‘Fake ID’ by Big & Rich from the 2011 footloose brought many people to the dance floor. The beating of the wood was heard as everyone danced in sync, even with all of the movement Joel never took his eyes of off her.

He watched as she danced next to Maria the two women laughing together as they got in the grove of the music, her movements where smooth never off beat or choppy. Joels head tilted to the side taking in her movement watching as she looked back giving him that smile that could kill a man. He smiles back softly not taking his eyes off her as she turned back around.

“Finally got the balls to ask her out huh?” Tommy said snapping his older brother back to reality.

He looked at his younger brother glaring at him softly causing Tommy to laugh. “Common bother you’ve been talking about and to her for months.. Im just happy seeing you with someone that can make you smile like that again, besides that kid Ellie.”

Joel nodded slightly understanding what his brother meant Joel was at his normal now he felt comfortable enough to finally let go of the past and let new people into his life.

“It is nice and im glad I did ask her out tonight, shes just wow Tommy..” Joel started his eyes looking back at her.

“Go on..” His little brother pushed, Tommy hasn’t seen him like this before so vulnerable, soft, so Lovestruck.

“Y/n shes, for starters she so Gentle and caring. Even in this day in time she’s caring to strangers, well as long as you dont try to kill her shes not frail she may appear that way but shes so strong ive seen her take town grown guys like us, younger even but; That woman is a god given gift a healer in a broken world, a world that needs repairing and shes doing just that..” Joel spoke, he watched Y/n as she messed around on the dance floor with some friends, her eye’s wandered over to him once in a while to see what he was doing.

“The only bad thing about this its what if, what if I lose her… I tried for months to push back the feeling i had for her the Love I have for her. I want to spend my last days with her now that i know i can have that with out have to worry to much, it will still linger luck runs out eventually. I want to be able to watch the sunsets from the porch with her next to me take her on adventures out side of the walls knowing i can bring her back safe and, damn it i will. Even in total darkness i would recognize her, her eyes , how here hair lays, the shape of her eyebrows, how her lips curve even if she was mute and i were deaf i would recognize her. Shes all i want, and even if she doesn’t feel the same love to me i will continue to stick by her side for whatever time to got left even as a friend it may kill me a little bit of the way but god knows i will never love like this again.”

Tommy just stared at his brother a small smile was on his face turning away from his brother he took the last drink of his drink putting the glass in the counter.

“Well Brother you better go get her before my wife takes her from ya’.” Tommy said pointing at the two women walking back to them.

The four finished off the night finally departing. Just him and her the summer night was calm the chilled summer air falling on her skin. A shiver going through her, Y/n wrapped her arm around Joels taking in his warmth. The walk was quite small conversation exchange here and there but they took their time. Sound to crickets and the running river filled their ears in the sleeping town.

“Thank you for tonight Joel, really i had fun it was nice to get out if my apartment.” She spoke softly, her face leaning on his arm.

“Of course, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” He responded.

The pair finally made it to her apartment complex the only light came from the moon and a few windows from the complex.

“I could always walk you up..” Joel said watching as she pulled away from him stepping on the steps up to the main door.

“Its fine really..” she said, she didn’t want to say goodnight yet, but what else was there to do.

Just a kiss, a kiss standing in the moonlight. God. No she didn’t want to mess anything up she wanted to continue to see him every day. To come home to Joel, their shared home. It was only one date, know that if they gave this. Them, a little more time it would bring them closer.

She stepped down pulling him in closer, Just a kiss good night.

“Goodnight Cowboy..” she whispered pulling away her lips brushing against his.

“Goodnight Darlin’…” he said softly.

Letting her pull away watching her walking in to her complex giving him one last smile before closing the door behind her.

[galaxycunt]

🎂

GIMMIE

A lil ren x buggy maybe 👀 sorry if it’s ooc for him 😔

Buggy heard the yelp before the glass shattering on the floor.

One thing he loved about pirate bars, there was always some form of entertainment. Tonight, was a bar fight. Boring, always no name pirates big dicking each other.

One threw a bottle at the other, who of course ducked and hit the poor son of a bitch behind him. Jesus, he got him good with that one.

“Mother fucker,” the man yelled out, running straight into Buggy.

He looked down, blood stained his coat, “hey! Wait a minute!”

Buggy really liked that coat too. He followed the man who rested against the wall of the bar, hands barely containing the blood from gushing out. He jumped as soon as he saw Buggy.

“Just leave me alone.”

He stared wide eyed, “shit, they got you good. Lemme see that.”

He waved Buggy away, “I’m fine.”

“Bullshit, lemme see.”

The man looked a little embarrassed, letting Buggy take a long look. He could’ve sworn the man shivered as he traced a finger along his cheek.

“That’s gonna need some stitches, man.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Buggy looked him up and down, “tough guy, huh?”

He shrugged, “don’t worry about me.”

He really should just walk away, something about the man reminded Buggy of someone he rather forget most days.

“I have a doctor on the ship, he can help.”

He shook his head again, and Buggy decided to leave.

“Wait, uh. Maybe, I can use a bandaid.”

Buggy chuckled, “alright, man. What’s your name?”

“Ren.”

“Buggy.”

Ren was handsome, now that Buggy got a real good look at him. Maybe if he played the hero part right, he’d get his reward.

[indigostreaking]

Hey! if you’re still doing headcannons, do you think you can do one about being nervous to tell the boys you have a crush on them and how they’d react? thanks!

😩 that’s so sweeeeeet! Yessss!

Josh:

You two had been friends for a long time, and you had finally convinced yourself that you needed to tell him how you feel. He had invited you out to the bar with him and his brothers, so you wore your favorite going out outfit and tried to hype yourself up during your Uber ride there. “Y/n!” Josh called your name as soon as you walked in, calling you over to their little corner by the pool tables. “You look amazing,” he smiled as he twirled you to get a better look at you. Jake disappeared to the bar when Danny and Sam went to play pool, clearly leaving you and Josh alone intentionally. Time to just get it out there, rip it off like a bandaid. “Josh, can we talk?” You asked nervously, ignoring how hot your cheeks felt. “Sure thing, mama. What’s up?” He replied cooly, offering you the drink he had already ordered for you. “I-I know we’ve been friends, but…” you trailed off, anxiety getting the better of you. Josh put an arm around you, pulling you against him as he said, “Y/n, you know I—” You cut him off, not willing to let him beat you to it. “I like you, and if you don’t like me, that’s okay..I just wanted you to know,” you finally blurted out. He gingerly reached out and used his forefinger to tilt your chin up before leaning in, pausing for a moment to ask, “Can I kiss you?” Heat rushed to your face, and all you could do was nod fervently. Without another word, he leaned in further, crashing his lips into yours. “I like you, too,” he replied breathlessly as he pulled away. Both of you erupted into a fit of giggles, too lost in each other to notice Danny and Sam pretending to gag at how cute you are together.

Jake:

You watched intently as your friend Jake strummed his guitar, singing a sweet song that he knew you liked. His fingers slid effortlessly up the neck as the fingers of his other hand danced across the strings. You closed your eyes as you got lost in his voice. A realization suddenly hit you and your eyes snapped open. You had always liked Jake, but lately it felt different. You weren’t sure if he felt the same way, but he always found a reason for the two of you to hang out alone. Even today, he had asked you to come over and “help” him with a new song. “Whats on your mind, love?” His speaking voice caught you off guard and your cheeks blushed. He always called you love, and that was probably at least partially to blame for your crush. “Nothing,” you lied, unconvincingly. He sat his guitar down and got up from his chair to take the seat beside you on the couch. “No, I know that look…what’s got those gears turning?” He asked as he gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. This was it. Might as well get it over with. You took a deep breath and turned to face him, and your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest when he smiled. Another deep breath. “If I tell you, you can’t let it ruin our friendship, okay?” You clarified and he nodded. One more deep breath. “I like you, Jake,” you hesitated for a moment, “and I want to be more than friends..” You held your breath as you waited for him to say something—anything. He scooted closer and twisted his body to face yours. “That’s good, because I like you, too,” he replied with a slow, easy smile. “Yeah?” You asked out of excitement and disbelief. He nodded again before adding, “And I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” as he cupped your cheek and gently pressed his lips to yours.

Danny:

You were sitting in the green room back stage, waiting for the boys to finish their set and internally kicking yourself for not telling Danny beforehand. You’d been friends with all of them for a while now, but once you realized you felt differently for Danny..you couldn’t stop thinking about him or the two of you together. You were pretty sure he liked you, too—at least if Sam was to be trusted because he had been filling your ear full of “Danny likes you, he just doesn’t want to ruin your friendship if you don’t like him.” You took a deep breath once you realized they were coming off stage finally. Danny rounded the corner and his eyes lit up when he found you. “I was hoping you’d still be here!” He beamed as he plopped down beside you. “You all sounded amazing…but I especially liked your solo tonight,” you blushed as he smiled wide at you. You heard the crowd rumble as they chanted the band name, but it weirdly gave you the boost of confidence you needed to spill your guts to him. “Danny,” you began, pausing despite the surge of adrenaline. “Y/n,” he giggled as he responded and you couldn’t contain your own laughter. “I just wanted to tell you how much I admire you, not only as a drummer, but as a person and a friend,” you paused again, but continued before he could interrupt your thought. “And I really like you..like a lot, and I’m hoping you like me, otherwise this is going to be super embar—” You were cut off when he enveloped you in his arms and crashed his lips into yours. You giggled into his lips once you realized what was happening, and he pulled away with flushed cheeks. “Sorry, if I waited for you to stop talking, I’d be late for the encore,” he teased before leaning in to kiss you again. “Oh, and I like you, too, by the way,” he giggled as he kissed you once more before running back to the stage for the encore, leaving you blissfully stunned.

Sammy:

“No strings attached” kept playing over and over in your mind as you laid against Sam’s chest, letting your fingers trace little shapes against his bare skin. You had both willingly agreed to it when you started hooking up as friends, but somewhere the lines and boundaries got a little hazy. He was lazily scrolling through the photos on his phone, giggling at all the silly shots from tour and goofy things he had caught Rose doing, and his smile and laughter had you smiling and giggling with him. Fuck. You needed to tell him, even if it meant that this comes to an end because of it. You couldn’t pretend you didn’t have feelings for him any more, so you took a deep breath.. “I like you, Sammy,” you blurted abruptly, surprising yourself even. “Hmm?” He turned his attention towards you as if he hadn’t heard you. “I said I like you,” you replied plainly, unable to even be embarrassed at this point. “Oh, yeah I know,” he giggled and your mouth fell open. “You know?!” You asked incredulously. “Yes, we like each other. Is that not common knowledge?” He asked nonchalantly with a shrug. “Why do you think we spend all our free time together? I cook for you, you’ve met my family..we’re well past fuck buddies, y/n,” he added with more laughter before leaning in and kissing your forehead. Your mind was racing as you realized he was right. “You like me too?” You asked cheekily, just wanting to hear him say it. He raised his eyebrows playfully before rolling on top of you and pinning your hands above your head in one swift motion. “Yes. I. Like. You. Y/n. So. So. Much.” He punctuated each word with a kiss as he trailed them down your jaw, neck and chest causing you to squirm and giggle beneath him. “Say it again,” you instructed once he paused to look at you again.

[beyondbecks]

Disclaimer; this is kinda gory. It’s also lowkey lazy and heavily unfinished. I hope you enjoy regardless!

Cold floor. The smell of blood. Darkness. Panic. Life. Sneeg took a shaky breath in as his body restarted. He tried to sit up but was greeted with a fiery pain in his leg. His heart filled with dread. He didn’t know how or why he’d survived but it most likely wouldn’t stay that way for long. He gently tapped his head against the floor beneath him, psyching himself up for the pain that would soon wrack his entire body. After a weighty pause, he bit the bullet and his lip and forced himself into a sitting position. Crying out in pain he hunched forward biting his finger, not knowing if that thing could hear him. After a moment, he opened his eyes and looked down at his right leg.

It was horrific. His knee, bent towards the left, pointing at almost a 90-degree angle towards the exit he almost made it to. It was heavily bleeding. His heart jumped and hit his brain as it pounded faster and louder the longer he stared. Despite this, something deep in his brain breathed,

“Survive.”

Almost robotically Sneeg began assessing the area around him. He saw a yellow wire, covered in blood not too far away from him.

“Stop the bleeding.”

With a wince and a slight pause halfway through leaning over, Sneeg wrapped his hands around the small wire and brought it over towards his leg. Muttering curses, he somehow wound the wire under his thigh, moving it to the thickest part. He crossed the wires, moving one underneath the other, and pulled as tightly as he could, using his teeth to hold the makeshift tourniquet in place as he looped another knot. He sighed, leaning back on his hands for a moment, closing his eyes. Willing the pain to go away, gritting his teeth as his leg slowly went numb. He opened his eyes, looking around for anything to help him move.

He glanced up at the exit sign flickering above him. All he’d have to do would be to stand and leave. Sneeg once again looked around the small area. He looked towards the rest of the desolate mall, where he assumed that the monster had fled. Looking a little closer he noticed a mall directory, or what was left of it, (shattered and mangled as if a semi had barreled through it) about 15 to 20 feet away.

Breathing deeply, he squeezed his eyes shut and began pulling himself towards the rubble, using his arms and good leg to slide across the ground, stopping every few feet to punch the ground and bite his lip as the pain pulsed throughout his leg and back, when he was finally amongst the shattered map pieces he laid down, catching his breath.

What felt like an eternity passed and finally, Sneeg sat up again, looking around the debris. After a few minutes, he found two long, almost straight pieces of metal and more wire pieces.

“Ah dammit.” He said breathlessly, looking at his leg, which had been dragged almost back into place. Gritting his teeth and looking at the ceiling, he wrapped his hand around his calf, just below where he believed the break to be, and moved it back into place. Halfway through the movement, he let his leg go and covered his mouth, biting his hand to keep from screaming

“Oh, my god.” He swallowed as bile crawled its way up his throat and tears scratched their way into his eyes.

Reassuring himself, Sneeg muttered, “It’s like a bandaid, It’s like a bandaid. C’mon. C’mon! Come ON!” and he pushed the bone back in place, a slight crunch and an immense pain roared through his body.

His hands were trembling and he was steadily feeling more and more dizzy. He closed his eyes and swallowed, begging the room to stop spinning. At least the worst was over, he hoped. He slowly opened his eyes and grabbed another wire piece, looping it under his leg, near the original “tourniquet”. Painstakingly, Sneeg moved the two metal pieces to the sides of his leg and tried his best to splint it. Once he’d stabilized his leg to the best of his ability, he psyched himself up for the next task. Standing. With a small scream, he pushed himself onto his feet, putting most of his weight onto his good leg. He began to hobble towards the door, the red exit light illuminating the small trail of blood that led from where he woke up, to where he set his leg. He leaned against the metal door, breathing hard, using the door frame to hold himself up for a moment. He reached out toward the handle and almost pushed it in, he was practically free!

“RANBOO!” The rest of the sentence was unintelligible, but something about the voice froze Sneeg in his tracks. His hand was hovering over the doorknob when suddenly, he remembered something. The sensation of remembering was new, unknown to him, yet there was a familiar tug at the corner of his heart when the memory flooded back. He could almost feel the wooden porch beneath his feet.

His eyes were unfocused, and all at once he felt himself get lost in a dream-like state. He was smaller, his leg was fine, and his feet were bare, hanging from a wooden porch swing. There was a gentle hand in his hair, and when he looked over he saw an old woman with kind eyes, looking back at him. He had no idea who she was, but his heart swelled and he felt safe. The feeling of being loved was almost palpable. The old woman reached out a wrinkled hand, calloused with time, but soft and loving, and held his face.

“Ranboo!” That voice again, but it sounded higher, younger. Sneeg turned his head to look out from the porch swing. He was sitting on a wrap-around porch, the old woman gently pushing the swing back and forth. Through the pillars holding up the awning Sneeg saw a child with short dirty blonde hair. His eyebrows were knit together and his glasses were entirely too big for his small, round face. He was looking up into a tree, face full of worry. “Ranboo! Get down! You might fall!” Again, the feeling of knowing, and even more profound, being known filled Sneeg when he looked at the other boy.

“Charlie I’m fine! See?” Sneeg remembered walking over to the other boy, he remembered looking up into the tree and seeing a third little kid. His hair was long enough that it had been pulled into a small hair tie, they were missing two front teeth, and he was perched in the branches of the tree, looking down on the two of them with a smile. Sneeg watched through his younger self’s eyes as the boy in the tree- Ranboo- swung down, holding himself upside-down by their legs.

He heard Charlie gasp and felt a little hand grab onto his sweater sleeve. Memories flooded back into his brain, small memories, sitting in front of a glowing tree, the smell of gingerbread, the old woman as she tucked him into a soft bed, looking over to see the sleeping forms of Charlie and Ranboo. Snippets of a life he knew was his broke through the wall in his brain. He gasped, and opened his eyes, breath coming out quick and heavy. He gripped his chest and the door frame as he caught his breath. The realization hit him like a truck.

“Charlie.” He breathed. Filled with adrenaline and determination Sneeg pushed himself off the wall and hobbled as fast as he could in the direction of the voice. His heart pounded in his ears as he strained to hear anything else. Screaming. He heard screaming. He moved faster, stumbling around corners, almost falling as he tried to fight his way to the noise. When it sounded its loudest, silence. A scream was cut off, and there was only silence. He swallowed the dread and panic that was welling up in his chest. He stopped in front of a door, breathless as his hand moved toward the handle. He gently pushed the door open, ungracefully walking through the door, slowly moving through the dim light.

What he saw made his heart stop. A large room full of people, all just stuck in their tracks. Each and every one of them had a white mask obscuring their faces, a strange symbol that made Sneeg’s heart drop on each of them. Some were frozen mid-run, and every one of them just stuck in time. A large set piece stood silently in the middle. As he moved closer he saw a cabin, one he’d seen before, he gasped as he took in the cage. He remembered that cage, he remembered this place, but it felt distant, foggy, and unreachable. A rustling sound made him slowly move to the floor, hiding behind some sort of camera rig. He sat with his back to it, breathing heavily, and slowly, he peeked around his hiding place to see the source of the noise.

Sneeg held his hand over his mouth to keep from screaming. Not even 15 feet away, a great beast of wire and blood stood over a human-shaped figure. There was a large puddle of blood underneath the two, so dark it looked like a hole had opened up in the earth to swallow the creature and its prey. Its head was an old television, static glitching and sparking across the screen as it tore into whoever was underneath it. With a pang of fear and one more peek, Sneeg realized the figure underneath it wasn’t just an unlucky masked body, it was Charlie. Lying underneath the monster, painfully still. His arm covered his face, blood covering the rest of him. He had some sort of tactical vest on and his chest had been clawed open. Sneeg stared, stuck in a horrified trance, hoping his beating heart didn’t alert the creature as it studied the damage it had caused. What seemed like a million eternities passed and the monster seemed to grow bored. Sneeg watched as it crawled away, counting to 200 once it had left his field of vision. When his countdown finished, he painfully scrambled over to his brother.

“Nononono. Please, c’mon, please wake up. Please.” He moved Charlie’s arm out of his face, swallowing the heave that came up when he saw Charlie’s bloodied face. He shook Charlie for a little longer before dropping his head onto his bloody stomach, sobbing. He didn’t know how long he stayed there when he felt Charlie’s stomach move. There was a cough and Sneeg shot up, looking into Charlie’s face.

“Charlie?” Sneeg whispered, terrified that he was dreaming. He yanked off his hoodie, and gently moved Charlie’s glasses off his face, trying to wipe away the blood covering his eyes. Charlie’s left eye fluttered open and a labored voice came out.

“S-Sneeg?” He coughed, blinking as tears welled up to clean the blood out of his eyes. “W-what are y-you doing here? I thought…” Charlie tried to sit up, wincing. Sneeg gently pushed him back towards the floor.

“Listen, I don’t know how you’re alive right now, but I’d like to keep it that way,” Sneeg said, trying to wrap his hoodie around the wound he thought was generating the most blood loss. Charlie was covered in gashes, the biggest of which cut across his torso, starting from the side of his stomach, all the way up to his left shoulder. His arms and legs were covered in scratches from where the monster had torn into him. As Sneeg tied the hoodie across Charlie’s chest, Charlie rested his head on the ground beneath him. They were silent for a moment, before Charlie spoke again, sounding a little stronger.

“Something isn’t right.” He said Sneeg helped him sit, leaning him against a nearby chair.

“What gave you that impression?” Sarcasm creeps past the worry in Sneeg’s voice.

“I’m not sure… I can feel it in my gut.” Charlie’s face had twisted into a mischievous smile. Sneeg let out a laugh of disbelief.

“You can’t be serious. You are bleeding out, and you’re still making stupid jokes?” Sneeg felt the twinge of memory in the back of his mind. Something felt normal about Charlie making bad jokes, no matter the situation.

“I’m sorry- the need to make jokes is rooted in my innard parts.” Charlie laughed, or rather, coughed, in what sounded like a laugh. Sneeg laughed again, allowing the absurdity to pull him out of his worry for a second. Horror filled his face again as what started out as a weak version of Charlie’s laugh, morphed into a hacking cough. Sneeg held Charlie’s back as he coughed and coughed, watching with fear written on his face as blood and some sort of green goo came up and out of his lungs.

A/N: this is all I have for now! Thanks for reading :)

[daedalusdavinci]

lets go second prompt bABY. 16 "At your lover’s complaining, rubbing a spot where they ache, smiling as they lean into your touch and melt at both the touch and warmth." twomatches or whatever the fuck i forget these bastards ship names sometimes

send me a meaningful gesture prompt!

you got it right. anyway bruce needs a mobility aid and dc can meet me in the pit about it. deny it all you want dc, im just going to start giving him internalized ableism or something

In all of the years Two Face had known Matches, he had never once heard the man complain about an injury. It wasn’t that he didn’t get them- Matches probably got more injuries than anyone else on the job. He had the scars to match, littering every inch of his skin so that he looked like he made a hobby of losing fights to a wood-chipper. But Two Face had watched Matches get shot and try to walk it off, hiding all of his injuries right up until Two Face tore open his shirt and forced him to let Two Face stitch him back up again.

There were signs, though, when an old injury was flaring up or he’d taken one too many hits in the field. On bad days, he started to shift when he’d been standing for too long, bracing his hands against his back and leaning back into it like he could crack it himself. He spent more time stooped in a crouch, or looked a little too relieved to sit down.

Tonight was a bad night. By the time they retired to Two Face’s safe house, Matches was eyeing the stairs like they’d personally hurt him, leaning a little too heavy on the railing. The second the door to Two Face’s apartment had closed behind them, he was toppling onto the couch like he hadn’t slept in months, graceless in his sprawl. He didn’t get back up again.

Two Face sighed. He shrugged off his coat and rolled up his sleeves, dragging the first aid kit out to start putting his favorite henchmen back together again. “You should really invest in a back brace.”

“Back braces’re for nerds,” Matches mumbled into the couch, muffled. He rolled over at Two Face’s pull, letting Two Face start to work on the buttons on his loud, ugly shirt.

“I swear I’m going to strap you into one and lock it, one of these days.” Two Face peeled the shirt back, studying the network of scars across Matches’s chest for any trace of something fresh. There wasn’t too much, tonight, fortunately. He’d have some nasty bruises in the morning, but Two Face was pretty sure it was the old wounds that were bothering him tonight.

“Only if you promise to make it weird.” Matches flashed him a crooked grin, lazy and shameless.

Two Face snorted. “Shut up. You look like you lost a fight with a paper shredder.”

Matches hummed, stretching his arms slowly above his head. The easy flex of muscle made it hard to stay on task, drawing Two Face’s eye to the arch of his back and shift of his hips. “I think it makes me look rugged.”

Two Face took a deep breath, tearing his eyes away to look at the alcohol he was pouring on a rag. Rather than feed into Matches’s distractions, he focused on cleaning wounds and changing out old bandages, quickly stitching Matches back together. He’d bled through a couple of old bandages pushing himself too hard, but most of the new ones could be taken care of with bandaids. For Matches, it wasn’t bad. There had been days where there was more blood than Two Face knew what to do with. Two Face finished by sticking one last bandaid over his nose, just to watch the way he went cross-eyed trying to follow it. “Flip over, you old whore, so I can get your back.”

Matches obliged, and Two Face tugged the shirt out from underneath him, tossing it to the side. Matches’s back had made it out more or less unscathed, aside from a cut by his shoulder blade. Two Face cleaned it up and stuck a couple of butterfly bandaids on to hold it shut. Then, he patted Matches’s ass. “There. Now stay put, and don’t do anything stupid to tear that open in the two seconds I’m leaving you alone for.”

“You got it, boss,” Matches said into the couch with a lazy flick of his hand.

Two Face left him alone to clean up his own injuries, though there weren’t many. He’d scraped his knuckles bloody with a couple well-aimed punches and taken a couple hard ones of his own, but it wasn’t anything that couldn’t be taken care of with a couple bandaids. He’d have bruises tomorrow, but bruises were always better than stitches. When he was done, he swapped the first aid kit for lotion and headed back to the living room.

Matches was exactly where he’d left him, and Two Face wasn’t sure if he was more grateful or worried. He swung a leg over Matches’s hip and settled his weight carefully on top of him, listening to Matches’s quiet groan for any sign of pain. Figuring he was in the clear, he dumped a generous dollop of lotion into his palm and set it aside. “Have you ever thought about getting a cane?”

Matches opened his mouth, but whatever he’d been going to say turned into another groan when Two Face pressed his palms into his back, dragging pressure slowly along his spine. He folded his arms under his head, pressing his face into them. “Jesus. Who needs it when I’ve got you, huh?” There was a warmth to his words that made Two Face flush, shamelessly reverent.

Two Face dug his fingers into Matches’s lats, starting just under his shoulder blades and dragging down toward the base of his spine. There was so much fucking muscle there, it was ridiculous. Matches was built like a brick shithouse, hidden under the ugliest outfits Two Face had ever seen and a shitload of cheap cologne. His pain tended to be centered in the lower portion of his back, where he’d admitted to breaking it some time ago, but Two Face never could resist getting his hands all over Matches, and Matches never seemed to mind. “You don’t even work for me full-time,” Two Face reminded him. “So unless you’ve got another boss under your thumb somewhere...”

Matches hummed, absent-minded and pleased. “I’d love to get you under me.”

Two Face pinched his side, making him start. “A cane, Malone.”

“I have one,” Matches said, wounded. “I just don’t use it outside a lot. Bad for image.”

“Bad for image?” Two Face asked, incredulous. “Two of the biggest villains in this city have canes. You think Cobblepot and Nygma use those for show?”

“It’s different. Can you-” Two Face slid his hands lower, pressing harder into Matches’s back. The sound Matches made was low and relieved, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders. “Yeah. Mm, and you wonder why I keep comin’ back.”

“Next time, come back with a cane. And a back brace,” Two Face added. He leaned more of his weight into Matches, rubbing small circles into his lower back with his thumbs. As he did, he ducked his head, pressing a soft kiss at the top of his spine. “I wish you’d take better care of yourself.”

One of Matches’s hands lifted, curling into his hair at the back of his head and keeping him close. Two Face had to shift to hold the position, but he did, pressing warm kisses along Matches’s shoulder.

After a long moment, Matches turned his head to look at him. He’d pushed his sunglasses up into his hair, and his eyes were warm, a fond smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Two Face pressed a kiss into it, and then another, bracing a hand up by Matches’s head to follow the pull of his hand. Matches kissed him like it was love, and Two Face fell into it, hopelessly lost for him.

“I’ll get a back brace,” Matches finally agreed, mumbled into the space between them.

“Good.” Two Face kissed him one more time before straightening up, picking back up where he’d left off. “And start bringing a cane, or I’ll tell Edward you want him to make you a trick one.”

Matches groaned, and this time it had nothing to do with the massage.

[shina-moon-art]

Hi those questions were me thanks for answering them sorry for thinking you had background info! I was wondering what do you think young Ann looked like if you do follow justscrolling765 do you follow her Hancock right hand story too!? What do you think a young Hayami looked like after leaving Judge and escaping the dragons? What do you think of Hayamis dynamic with Hancock even!? Sorry if this is a lot those books are so fun to read!!!

Haha no problem! I’ve been told I can ask for some insider info now but no promises on how much I can actually share (it’ll ruin the surprise!) but anyway yeah I do follow the other story as well, im actually in the process of designing Hayami right now!

As for Ann when she’s a child? I’ve been thinking about it since yesterday and I can’t help but think she’d dress like shanks or roger, maybe a little nicer like some of whitebeard’s children, at least when she was on the Oro. Living with Rouge the clothing itself was high quality but she dressed mostly in shorts and tank tops with the exception of when rouge had her wear skirts or dresses. She was constantly covered in bandaids and scrapes, I don’t see Ann going out of her way to pick fights as a kid but anyone caught badmouthing her dad was swiftly put in their place, even the adults. All of her old outfits are either torn or visibly mended, she also used to sport a full set of knee and elbow pads (rouge declared her too accident prone and forced her to wear them, didn’t stop her from getting hurt but at least it didn’t hurt as bad to walk or throw a punch after hitting the ground). I think it’d be really cute if she had it short for a long time until roger said smth about her hair reminding him of rouge and after that she grew it out.

After leaving Judge I imagine Hayami wearing some pretty plain things up until she’s turned into a slave for the celestial dragons after which they started dressing her nicely to match with the gorgon sisters (if I remember correctly they were more like trophy’s and had to look good rather than being working slaves) she was clearly malnourished but in the same way people starve themselves for beauty standards except the celestial dragons did it to “keep them looking pristine” after being released she went back to plain clothing until boa forced something nice onto her (it had been a year since they got back to Amazon lily) after which she developed her own style.

Thank you for the questions! This one was a little hard since I’m better at drawing someone’s appearance rather than describing it , I left Hayami’s pretty up in the air tbh bec honestly I don’t really know yet, I didn’t mention Ann’s height because that’s pretty dependent on where she is in her life. I’m not too sure what I think of Hancock and Hayami yet just because I haven’t gotten up to date with that one yet. @justscrolling765

[mt-musings]

Bluebell

Chapter 24

After being abruptly transferred to the BAU at what she suspects was Gideon's request, Cassie Boann struggles to find her footing. Shy and solitary by nature, the transition is made all the more difficult when Dr. Spencer Reid seems to take an almost immediate dislike to her. Unfortunately for them both, their respective areas of expertise leave them paired off more often than not. But when Cassie's past literally starts hunting her, Spencer is forced to consider that he might, in fact, not hate her at all.

Quite the opposite, actually.

Spencer Reid x OC

Warnings: Canon typical violence, kidnapping, stalking, drug use, blood, injury, death, PTSD, eventual smut, more tags to be added

Series Masterlist

Read on AO3

24. This Night Has Opened My Eyes

Cassie paused as she poured over the PCR results, squinting at a faint set of markers in the bottom corner before pulling out her files. There was something oddly familiar in the results something jogging her memory. 

She froze, considering the possibility before she went digging in her folders. The test was practically ancient at this point, pre-dating the OJ trial but if it were accurate, or if it raised enough interest to rerun a sample—

It was her mother’s PCR results from the crime scene, an incomplete run but—there, that strange little marker. She compared the two for only another moment before bolting up from her desk.

It would take days to get the needed samples from evidence, samples that she’d have to pray hadn’t been corrupted by time or poor storage. But she could get a preliminary rough panel in less than two hours, provided her hypothesis was right. 

Thankfully everyone in the lab was at lunch when she burst in, no doubt looking more than a little unhinged. She tossed her papers down next to the PCR machine and pulled out a scalpel, a handful of alcohol wipes, and a fresh test tube. She swiped at the skin of her forearm with the wipes before making a small incision, just large enough to let blood well up so she could catch it in the test tube. She didn’t really notice the sting of the blade, too caught up in the pounding of her heart. 

She didn’t bother waiting for the cut to stop bleeding before she prepared the gel, slapping on a blank label by way of a bandaid rather than looking for the lab’s first aid kit. 

Ayesh returned to the lab with a smoothie in hand, freezing in the doorway when he spotted Cassie pacing back and forth in front of the PCR machine, a line of tacky blood streaked down her forearm.

“Ummm?”

She ignored him, leaping forward as the machine beeped to look at her results. He crossed behind her, glancing between the results on the screen and the familiar printouts she had laid out on the keyboard. 

They both just stared at the results for a solid ten minutes, unmoving. Cassie had always been the odd one out in their cohort. It wasn’t as if they didn’t like her—quite the opposite. She just held herself apart, had done so since she’d started. She buried herself in work, in cases, in research, so much so that she thought no one could tell she was pushing everyone away. And it worked, for the most part. 

But he’d been in the program the second-longest, after her. He’d known her long enough, spent enough wee hours of the morning together pouring over results to get the slightest glimmer of the person underneath. 

The person he hope to see more of now that she’d finally hit a breakthrough in her research. Ayesh let out a low whistle, shaking his head. 

“There’s no way Dr. Garvey won’t put you up to defend this semester.”

“You’re seeing the same thing I am, right?”

“Oh yeah. Is this your first—“

“Third panel, same results.”

He didn’t comment on the way her eyes were misted over, or the slight tremor in her voice. He just clapped her on the back, face breaking into a wide grin. “You crazy son of a bitch, you really did it. I’m cashing in that favor, we’re going out for drinks to celebrate.”

---

She stepped out of the bar and into the chilly night air, leaning back against the wall as she dug out her cell phone. 

Ayesh had rounded up the rest of the cohort and dragged them all down to the Tombs for drinks before moving on a karaoke bar just outside of Chinatown. She dropped her head back against the brick, closing her eyes for just a moment. Perhaps it was the warm fuzziness of the alcohol or maybe she just enjoyed being around them more than she allowed herself. Enjoyed laughing and making an ass out of herself with the rest of them, for once not having to be the paradigm of professionalism. 

She dialed, opening her eyes to watch the passersby. They were still close enough to the Mall that there were people out and about even though it was past eleven. She listened to the ringing on the other end, wondering if maybe he’d simply gone to sleep. They had work in the morning after all.

“Hello?”

The voice at the other end of the line was Spencer, but it was wrong, something just off. It was as if everything was being spoken through molasses, slowed and distorted. She furrowed her brows, pressing the phone harder to her ear.

“Spence? Are you—Did I wake you?”

“No, I just…What is is Cass?”

“I—I had a breakthrough in my thesis. Are you okay, Spencer? You sound weird.”

“I’m fine.”

He wasn’t. She didn’t have to listen to the foreign timbre of his voice to know he wasn’t. It had barely been a month since everything he’d endured at the hands of Thomas Hankel. 

She’d tried space, she’d tried handling him with kid gloves, but he just slipped further away each day. She knew what it was like to be unmoored, knew what it was like to try and stay afloat alone. 

“I’m coming over,” she said, flipping her phone shut before he could argue. 

---

Van Ness was six stops on the Red Line from the bar. 

Long enough for her to start to spiral. It wasn’t as if she were a stranger to maladaptive coping. Perhaps that was why the idea of Spencer turning to any of her self-destructions bothered her so much. 

Spencer’s apartment was only a few blocks from the station. The familiar path seemed to take twice as long, even as she pulled her coat tighter around herself and upped her pace. 

His building had no doorman to charm, no access codes to punch in. She just crossed the lobby to the stairs and climbed to the second floor. She knocked on #23, hearing the muffled sound of something heavy falling to the floor. She waited a handful of minutes before knocking again, this time louder. 

“Spencer? It’s Cassie.” She could hear the TV on in the apartment, though no sign of footsteps.

She pulled out her phone and dialed as she knocked again. She was sent to voicemail. She dialed again and then a third time, listening to the muffled swearing on the other side of the door as he finally picked up.

“What?”

“I’m here. Can you open the door?”

“It’s almost midnight. We have work.”

“You’re already up.”

He hung up, letting the dial tone ring in her ear. She sighed, staring at the closed door. She half considered ignoring the sick feeling in her gut, chalking it up to her own hangups and being naturally anxious. If he had sounded like himself she would have accepted the harsh refusal and turned away. If he didn’t sound wrong.

Or at least that’s what she told herself. 

Instead she pulled a bobby pin from her hair, positioning herself so any nosy neighbors wouldn’t quite be able to see what she was doing and pulled it apart, holding one end as the tension and the other to push the pins into place.

She doubted, but the time that it took for her to open the door, that the locks had been changed since the complex was built.

She’d have to get him a proper set of deadbolts.

She pulled out the remnants of her bobby pin and swung the door open. Spencer lay sprawled on the couch, his skin ashen and covered in a sheen of sweat. 

“Fuck,” she whispered, crossing the room in about four strides to kneel next to him. She checked his pulse. It was slow—too slow— but steady. He mumbled something unintelligible, eyes still closed. It was only then that she saw the empty vial on the coffee table, the dirty needle tossed haphazardly next to it along with a rubber tourniquet. 

She smacked him, not too hard but not especially gently, her other hand still monitoring his pulse. He shot up, eyes flying wide and in a panic.

“Cassie? What the fuck?”

She ignored him, noting the acceleration in his pulse. Not an overdose then, but too much. Far too much.

“What are you doing here? I told you not to come,” he snarled, yanking his arm away. She let him.

“How long have you been—? Spence, you gotta know this isn’t the right way—“

“I don’t remember asking your opinion.”

“You don’t have to ask for me to give it. Just sit up.”

She gave him a last once over before crossing to his kitchen to pull out a glass and a handful of ice. She splashed water on her own face before filling the glass, trying to steady her breathing. 

She hadn’t expected—she hadn’t really expected anything, except maybe a blackout drunk Spencer—but maybe she should have. Maybe if she had really been paying attention she would have picked up the signs, connected the dots. 

Tobias had tormented him with Diladaud. She just hadn’t expected him to seek it out himself. 

She didn’t know much about modern opioids outside of what was important in a toxicology report. If she had maybe she’d have known the risk factors, what to watch for. How had she not seen the extent of his pain? How could she even call herself his friend when she'd let him suffer and waste away alone?

She wiped the water from her face and filled his cup, turning back to the living room. 

Previous Next

[darkwants]

"i don't understand why i remember it." ezra was pretty sure he'd only ever referenced that random little detail on one other occasion in his life, when a girl complained about her weekend plans being ruined because of her period and how she stayed on a heating pad for two days straight and burned her skin. interjecting his opinion on how someone should handle their time of the month was ordinarily something that even ezra would consider suicidal, but the massage he gave her helped soothe any feathers he might have ruffled, if memory served. "fingers crossed for that." somehow the idea of billie getting hurt didn't work out in his head. maybe she might try to repair that one creaky step and accidentally hit her finger with a hammer or something, or maybe she'd slip on a spilled drink at work, those were the kind of dumb risks that could happen to anyone, but some part of ezra said that billie was too precious to get hurt that way, as if her being a sweet and shining star in his life meant that harm wasn't allowed to befall her. with billie carefully situated in the tub and messing with her hair, ezra used the plastic scoop inside the epsom salts bag to dump a liberal amount of the crystals around billie, counting on it to help soothe her muscles and ease her to sleep, although ezra was confident she'd drop right off after what she'd been put through. "that should be good. i'll be right back, okay?" he reminded her, giving bilile a swift kiss to the forehead before leaving the bathroom and heading back downstairs, making his way to grab a bottle of water from the fridge and ibuprofen from the kitchen. there were certain things that he kept in the bathroom, like creams, bandaids, and peroxide, but most pills were kept in the kitchen, which he thought was another place you weren't supposed to keep medicine, but oh well. the benefit of having to go into the kitchen to select the pills was that, after popping an ibuprofen of his own and getting some for billie, he also managed to grab one of those cupcakes with the cream center out of a torn hostess box before going back to the bathroom, pausing just long enough on the way to pick up billie's blanket. "okay, i got your water, the ibuprofen, and a snack for you," he announced as he stepped back into the room.

her eye brows arched up a bit as he continued to explain. billie honestly doubted she would remember anything he was telling her. even if she knew it was a bit interesting given it was clearly not common knowledge. she nodded slowly to make sure that he saw she had heard him," i never would have found that out, i don't think." she couldn't help but feel a bit amused. however she was still mostly focused on how worn out she was feeling. it wasn't exactly a bad feeling but it was different. she was obviously used to feeling exhaustion given how much she worked. however, what she was feeling right then, was vastly different to her. her body had been put through something that it never had before. her teeth caught onto her lip but she laughed a bit," lets hope i don't get hurt either way." he seemed to pause when she dropped the blanket. part of her wasn't sure if she should explain herself but he was already moving. she couldn't help but feel a bit of relief when he explained he was going to join her. it was clear that he truly was planning on taking care of her. that he wanted to make sure that she was safe and comforted. it seemed that their fight was forgotten for the time being. that was not something that she had ever imagined. he was moving to place her into the tub and she reached to grasp at the edges to keep her balance," thank you daddy." a slightly gasp fell from her as he was going to turn on the water. her eyes followed his movement as he put the stopper in the drain. the water was warm the moment he turned it on and he seemed to wait before he turned on the cold. she found herself still sitting up as he moved about to get the epsom salt. she reached to begin to brush her hair up and away from her neck. only to blindly reach for the elastic band that she still had on her wrist. she was pulling her hair up and away from her neck to avoid it getting wet for the time being," this is nice," she breathed, glancing around before looking back at him," being here like this without having to worry about leaving fast."

[belovedharringrove]

the first time billy fell in love, he was 14 and sniffling and desperately blinking back frustrated tears as he sat on a dirty park bench, his best friend of five years kneeling in front of him and gently placing bandaids on his busted knees. "this is dumb. i shouldn't be crying." he had huffed angrily, frowning when his friend lifted his head to look at him and his long, silky brown had moved with the gentle breeze. "it's cool to cry, man. makes you feel real human, doesn't it?" the other male had grinned and billy's breath had caught in his throat, in awe and suddenly realizing that he sort of felt like kissing his best friend on the lips but knowing that boys weren't supposed to kiss other boys. so he simply rolled his eyes like the thought of feeling like real human was something disgusting and stood up, grabbing his skateboard and walking away from argyle with a 'let's go before it's too late' thrown over his shoulder. he pretended he wasn't blushing when argyle jogged a little to catch up with him and slung an arm over his skinny shoulders, pulling him close and turning his face to grin down at him all warm and beautiful.

the last time billy felt something similar to that was at a crowded halloween party in 1984. by this point, the only emotion he knows and recognizes within himself is anger so when he sees him across the house, leaning against the wall next to a brunette with blue eyes, he thinks the feeling of breathlessness is anger trying to escape his chest and suffocate the male that is stupidly wearing glasses indoors at night. billy wants to punch him, he thinks. maybe. so he takes a deep drag of the cigarette hagan had handed him and approaches, pushing drunk and dancing teenagers aside without a single care. hagan says something next to him and the guy, harrington, removes his shades to look back at him. the brunette takes one look at him and the guy and turns to leave. after a little, harrington goes and follows her and billy pretends that the burning feeling in his chest is the anger that he knows so well and not jealousy.

now, as billy stands with his toes digging into the warm californian sand and watches as his boyfriend stands at the shore, the legs of his jeans rolled up to his knees and his shoes held in his hands, billy can admit to himself that that night in 1984 was the last time he fell in love. it was love at first sight, although he hadn't realized it back then. the path he and steve had to take to get where they were now hadn't been easy, but billy would happily admit that, although he had many regrets, he wouldn't change it for the world. "you spend years begging and pleading to take me to a beach in california and when we get here, you just stare at me?" he hears and has to squint to get a better look at his boyfriend, his shades not helping with the setting sun being right behind steve. "you're just so pretty." he smirks and approaches steve, wrapping an arm around his arm around his waist and not caring that the soft waves lapping against his legs are now getting the legs of his own pants wet. "shut up." is muttered halfheartedly and a kiss is pressed into his lips, billy having to hold back the urge to laugh in delight as he kisses his boyfriend back, his free hand tracing the bruises under steve's shirt. as they pull away, billy sweeps steve up into his arms and walks deeper into the water, ignoring his boyfriend's complaints because they're said in between laughter and delighted screams at feeling the warm water hit his body.

billy will admit now that he fell in love for the last time in 1984, seeing no need to hand his heart to anyone besides steve since what they both had was gonna be for eternity.

[lxdymoon0357]

Hello dear i'm here to request 🙆‍♀

Aria, Mielle, and reader as childhood bestfriends and reader is the middle person and the one who takes cares of them whenever something happens but the sisters just wants readers attention for their own

✨Childhood fluff✨ i hope it isn't too much, goodbye and have a great life 💖

(A/N: I made them sisters in this one, Aria is the eldest, Y/N is the middle and Mielle is the youngest)

Aria X Reader X Mielle: Childhood moments

It was like any-other day for the Roscente sisters, the eldest and youngest quarreling about how is gonna spend more time with the middle, Y/N Roscente. His was a regular thing between the sisters; they would always do this as they both loved their middle sister more than anyone and would do anything to get them away from the other sister.

Now as they both were running around and fighting because one just so happen to spend a bit more time with the middle. As they chased each-other, they heard a sound. Upon hearing the sweet sound they both stopped in their tracks, as they both looked each-other they knew what they both were thinking, ‘Who is making this beautiful sound?’  As they walked towards a place, which was known to have a private pond for someone special. As they brushed the long leaves from the huge dangling tree branches to pass through them to see who the person was, they heard the noise more clearly, it was a song they learnt in their singing classes, but it was being played by a very sweet flute.

As they finally passed through the huge trees and stopped in front of prickly raspberry bushes, they saw the person responsible for the sweet music; they were shocked to see their sweet adorable sister! Though she was only a child like them, she played the flute as though a master of music, the music was enchanting like that of a siren luring in anyone who listens.

The sound seemed more alluring and sweet when played by the beautiful maiden. The sisters were listening to the music as though it was the only thing in the world. But unfortunately, the flute soon hit the last note in the music before finishing, as soon as the music stopped; it was as though the enchantment had stopped working because as the music stopped Aria’s feet slipped, so to steady herself she grabbed onto Mielle’s collaring and instead of being steady, both the sisters ended up slipping into the bushes in front and bruising themselves, mistakenly letting some sounds of pain out of their mouths, attracting their sister to their hidden place. Shocked, there sister immediately ran towards them to see if they were okay.

As she helped their sisters get out of the bushes and into the clearing, she sat both of them down on the soft and lush grass and bent down to see their bruises. Some ugly red and purple bruises were there, some were bleeding a little, not too much thankfully. Luckily the young lay had some bandaids with her because this often happened to her too, where she would slip and fall into the raspberry bushes while playing her flute or running around having fun or picking the raspberries to eat them. As she took the sisters near the water to wash their bruises and put bandaids on them, the sisters were happy that their sister was looking after them like every time she did when they fought and end up getting hurt, it just shows that how much she loves them to look after them herself instead of calling the maids.